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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27337723">Astéri (In Full Bloom For You)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/stealthestars/pseuds/stealthestars'>stealthestars</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Background Relationships, Blood, Bottom Akaashi Keiji, Confessions, Dream Sex, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, Getting Together, Hanahaki Disease, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Kuroo Tetsurou is a Good Friend, M/M, Major Illness, Minor Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Minor Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou, Minor canon divergences, Minor mentioned past homophobia, Misunderstandings, Near Death, POV Akaashi Keiji, POV Switch (Chapter 2) to Bokuto, Pining, Post-Time Skip, Slow Burn, Top Bokuto Koutarou, Wedding sex (but not their own uwu), miscommunications, sex with feelings, the slowest burn, wrong place wrong time</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 11:14:09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>32,804</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27337723</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/stealthestars/pseuds/stealthestars</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Falling in love with Bokuto is… Well it’s easy. For Akaashi, it’s as simple as a single volleyball practice. </p><p>A jump. </p><p>The sight of Bokuto soaring through the air like he has wings and nothing can stop him. </p><p>He seems limitless in that moment. Untouchable.</p><p>Bokuto flies and Akaashi falls.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Minor or Background Relationship(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>365</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Haikyuu, Haikyuu Angst Week 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Astéri</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>So I started this monster a while ago just as a plot that wouldn't leave me alone. It blossomed into the literal novel you now see before you, and when I saw that Haikyuu Angst Week was going to have a Hanahaki day it felt like fate, so, here you go. The absurdly long Bokuaka Hanahaki slow burn fic no one asked for.</p><p>I also made a <a href="https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4knaW70Eq9Dv6W44gr98w1">Spotify playlist</a> for listening while you read this, if you want extra sadness. </p><p>For Day 5: Realizations, Hanahaki, “Did you ever love me?”<br/>Bonus: Tears, Sacrifice</p><p>Please take note of the tags and warnings, they're there for a reason. But, there is NO major character death in this story and I promise there is a happy ending at the end of this roller coaster.</p><p>I have not finished reading the manga so pls forgive me if there are any glaring discrepancies. </p><p>Special shout out to <a href="http://twitter.com/sakusasmask504">@sakusasmask504</a> for cheering me on during the writing process. (´｡･v･｡｀)</p>
    </blockquote><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>"Yeah, I'd rather be a lover than a fighter (fighter),<br/>'Cause all my life, I've been fighting.<br/>Never felt a feeling of comfort, oh,<br/>And all this time, I've been hiding.<br/>And I never had someone to call my own,<br/>I'm so used to sharing.<br/>Love only left me alone,<br/>But I'm at one with the s i l e n c e."</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Chapter summary taken from "Silence" by Marshmello, Khalid, which can be found on the linked playlist. :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Falling in love with Bokuto is… Well it’s easy. For Akaashi, it’s as simple as a single volleyball practice. </p><p>A jump. </p><p>The sight of Bokuto soaring through the air like he has wings and nothing can stop him. </p><p>He seems limitless in that moment. Untouchable.</p><p>Bokuto flies and Akaashi falls.</p><p>It’s a wonderful feeling, being in love with someone you’re close to. Akaashi gets to see him every single day and absorb the warmth of his existence like a tree reaching inexorably towards the sun.</p><p>And the thing about Bokuto is he makes it all seem worth it, even if Akaashi knows his feelings are not returned. Bokuto loves the people in his life with an unmatched ferocity that makes Akaashi feel full, at least for a time. Bokuto does not have to be <i>in</i> love with him for Akaashi to feel loved all the same.</p><p>So he never says a word. He lives with the ache in his chest every time Bokuto’s smile turns away from him. </p><p>He survived the rainstorm that left them both soaking and standing under the awning of a closed shop in the dark of late evening, out of breath from trying to beat it after practice went late. Bokuto had looked at him with such fondness in his eyes that Akaashi swore in that moment they were going to kiss. Then a car drove by and it had been lost to the sudden awkwardness of realizing they were in a public place.</p><p>Akaashi almost breaks when Bokuto announces at the end of his third year that he’s been scouted by the MSBY Black Jackals and that he’ll be moving away to start training with them after high school. He remembers long nights spent sleeping over at Bokuto’s, sprawled on the futon and staring up at the ceiling as they talk about their plans for the future. </p><p>Plans of going to college nearby so they could still see each other constantly. Of playing volleyball together for the rest of their lives.</p><p>But Bokuto is bigger than that. He’s a fiery shooting star through the night and Akaashi is just a chunk of rock, clinging uselessly to his coat tails and dragging him down. </p><p>Akaashi is average. Maybe a little above when it comes to volleyball.</p><p>He gets good grades. Tries to be the best setter he can for Bokuto. </p><p>But now Bokuto has outgrown him. </p><p>And he’s fine with it. He expected this. </p><p>A few hours later, Akaashi coughs up his first delicate pink and purple petals. </p><p>He attends Bokuto’s graduation ceremony with the rest of the volleyball team and a faint tang of iron on his tongue. His best friend smiles at him and throws his arms around his former setter, squeezing him so tight that Akaashi hopes he might just never let go.</p><p>“I won’t forget you. I’ll come back,” Bokuto had promised him in a whisper, drawing back just enough to meet Akaashi’s gaze. </p><p>Akaashi smiles through the mix of bile and flower petals pressing urgently at the back of his throat.</p><p>“I’ll hold you to it, Bokuto-san,” he murmurs, feeling no other loss in his life so acutely than the moment Bokuto releases his hold on him. </p><p>When he finally gets home that night, the flower petals he chokes up are streaked with blood.</p><p>Akaashi grunts when a hand makes contact with the side of his head, shaking him out of the daydream. How long has he been staring into space, thinking about the past?</p><p>“You with us, dude?” his coworker asks from beside him, mouth formed into a deep pout. “Those panels aren’t gonna edit themselves and Kanseda-san will literally murder us if we miss another deadline.” </p><p>Right. His job. </p><p>Akaashi Keiji is no longer a love struck 16 year old with stars in his eyes and a heart full of impossible dreams.</p><p>Akaashi Keiji is now a love sick 22 year old adult with exhaustion lining his face and lungs full of ugly flowers. </p><p>They told him it’s something called Hanahaki Disease. Once difficult to treat and often deadly, now rare and controllable thanks to advances in technology and medicine. People with Hanahaki can live for years with the illness if necessary, aided of course by a strict medication regimen. The idea is you take the medication until your feelings are either reciprocated or fade away with time. </p><p>If you were rejected however, there was still the high chance that the disease would become rapidly deadly. At that point the only thing that can save you would be the surgery, where the flowers and your memories of loving the person who rejected you would be permanently removed. </p><p>It’s also less difficult to convince someone into surgery after the one they love has rejected them. Many people even prefer to forget such painful feelings of unrequited affection.</p><p>“I’m sorry, Azuma-kun. I guess I’m just tired,” he murmurs, focusing back down on his work. </p><p>It’s been six years and Akaashi is no less in love with Bokuto than the day he first saw him soar. </p><p>He puts his pen aside and picks up his cellphone, scrolling through his text inbox until he gets to the last message he’d received from Bokuto. </p><p>It’s three months old. A heart eyes emoji in response to a photo of an owl Akaashi had sent him when he visited the zoo during a trip with a couple of coworkers. His thumb hovers over the call button, suddenly desperate to hear his voice. What would he even say to him? </p><p>Hey Bokuto-san, I’ve been embarrassingly in love with you since we were teenagers, how have you been? </p><p>His phone suddenly trills with an incoming call and Akaashi drops his phone on his desk with a sudden jerk, heart thudding in his chest as he fumbles to pick it back up again, daring to hope that it’s Bokuto reaching out because he also misses Akaashi.</p><p>Those hopes are immediately dashed when he sees Kuroo’s user icon on his screen, smirking up at him with all the casual confidence of an accomplished businessman. </p><p>“I’m at work, Kuroo. What do you want?” he grouses, pointedly ignoring Azuma groaning in his direction.</p><p>“Ahhhhh Akaashi, why are you like this? Can’t an old friend just call for a chat in the middle of a work day,” Kuroo whines at him mockingly, making Akaashi’s teeth grind. </p><p>“No, now spit it out or I’m telling Kenma-kun you’re slacking off again,” he snaps, balancing his phone against his shoulder so he can cross his arms. He’s in the middle of debating whether he should just hang up on him and go back to being miserable about his life when Kuroo says something that changes absolutely everything and nothing all at once. </p><p>“Bokuto is coming back to Tokyo this weekend.”</p><p>Akaashi swallows thickly around the warning tickle in his chest, standing up from his desk and quickly exiting the office space before he says something he regrets just a little too loudly.</p><p>“Oh?” His attempt to feign indifference is apparently poor because Kuroo snorts at him.</p><p>“Yeah he just texted me. Said he’s got a week off and wanted to come back and see everyone, visit the old haunts and such,” he says so, so casually, as if he hasn’t turned Akaashi’s entire world upside down with two simple sentences. </p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>He doesn’t bother to hide how he feels this time. Why try when Kuroo quite clearly has him pegged anyways?</p><p>“And you’re calling me instead of just texting because?” he sighs, locking the door of the single bathroom behind him so he won’t be disturbed. </p><p>The question he doesn’t ask but desperately wants to is bitter on the back of his tongue. </p><p>
  <i>Why did Bokuto tell you and not me?</i>
</p><p>“Because he asked if he could stay with me, but I just don’t have the space.”</p><p>Liar. Akaashi has seen his house and the master bathroom is bigger than Akaashi’s entire bedroom. </p><p>“So you’re asking me,” Akaashi answers flatly, starting to grow annoyed at this clear attempt at meddling. </p><p>There’s a long stretch of silence on the other end of the line and Akaashi wonders if Kenma has done him the favor of murdering Kuroo Tetsurou so this conversation can end. </p><p>“Are you still coughing up the flowers, Keiji?”</p><p>Kuroo’s question is honest, but no less infuriating. He only knows because Kenma caught Akaashi vomiting purple flowers behind the gym during training camp in their third year of high school. Bokuto had ignored his last two attempts to text and when Akaashi texted again before his practice game with Nekoma, he’d gotten a short response back from Bokuto that he was busy with practice and didn't have time to talk to Akaashi right then.</p><p>Akaashi barely made it outside before the blood streaked blossoms had burst from his mouth, as violent and angry as the self loathing suddenly gripping his heart. </p><p>Bokuto doesn’t need him anymore. He’s probably already replaced him with a new setter. </p><p>A better setter.</p><p>The kind of setter that a player like Bokuto actually deserves, who can give him the set he wants every single time without fail. </p><p>Kenma had found him on his hands and knees, surrounded by a flurry of pink and purple petals and fully formed buds, pounding his fist into the dirt so hard that the bruises lingered on his knuckles for weeks. Of course Kenma eventually told Kuroo, who then confronted Akaashi. </p><p>How they’ve managed to keep his secret all these years he’ll never know, but it wasn’t hard for either of them to guess who had caused it. </p><p>“I’m managing fine, Kuroo-san,” Akaashi replies tersely, massaging his temple in an attempt to stave off the headache he can feel forming. The pills he takes to manage the Hanahaki have a laundry list of ugly side effects that get worse the longer you take them, one of which is frequent migraines. </p><p>“That’s not really an answer, you know. I still don’t know why you can’t just tell him-”</p><p>Akaashi interjects with a harsh “No!”, ending the lengthy, well worn lecture before he can start this time. </p><p>“I appreciate that you and Kenma-kun have kept this to yourselves for so long, I truly do, but it’s not your place to butt into my business,” he snaps, placing his hand against the wall to steady himself. His chest is tight and his lungs feel like they’re filling up with cement.</p><p>“If Bokuto-san wants to stay with me then you tell him he’ll have to ask me himself. That is of course if he isn’t too busy with Atsumu-san.”</p><p>His voice sounds bitter and petulant even to his own ears and he’s silently grateful when Kuroo chooses to step around it instead of teasing him for once. Akaashi has no reason to hate Atsumu. He’s a good volleyball player and he brings out the best in Bokuto in ways that Akaashi never could. He’s there for Bokuto every day and gets to see him fly. </p><p>He’s done nothing wrong to have earned the way Akaashi always spits out his name like something rotten and foul on his tongue.</p><p>“I’ll tell him to give you a call,” Kuroo finally replies, voice slow and cautious as if he’s speaking to a child on the precipice of throwing a tantrum. Akaashi supposes he’s probably earned that with how shitty he’s being. </p><p>“That would be… much appreciated,” Akaashi mumbles, squatting down in front of the toilet with a grimace. “I’ve gotta get back to work, but um… thanks. For letting me know, Kuroo-san. And everything else.” </p><p>Kuroo is silent for several long moments and Akaashi desperately fights down the familiar pressure rising in his throat. </p><p>“Any time, Keiji. You know Kenma and I are always here if you want to talk or just.. Need a friend, y’know? Kenma really wants to rope you into one of his gaming livestreams, and it would be nice to get together sometime just to catch up. Just us, yeah? It feels like it’s been an eternity since we last saw you in the flesh.”</p><p>Kuroo’s voice is kind and Akaashi hates it. Hates the pity he knows lurks beneath the kindness. </p><p>But that’s what he’s become, right? A pitiful man still clinging to his teenage love, unable or maybe just unwilling to move on like everyone else has. </p><p>“Of course, Kuroo-san. Tell Kenma-kun I say hi, and that I’ll think about the stream thing,” he sighs, clenching his jaw when the nausea crests. He hangs up without bothering to say goodbye and drops his phone to the floor just as the first flower buds finally breach the back of his throat. </p><p>It’s been a while since he’s had an attack this bad and all he can do is clutch at the porcelain bowl as he chokes up mouthful after mouthful of flowers and loose petals into the toilet. When he was a teenager they were purple and pink, but these days they’re mostly just red. Based on the shape of the buds and petals it still seems to be the same flower, and Akaashi isn’t sure if it’s even normal for one’s Hanahaki blooms to change colors.</p><p>He’s never bothered to look anything up. Knowing what kind of flower has taken root in his chest will hardly help the cause of it, after all. </p><p>When the episode is finally over Akaashi feels weak and shaky, and he’s unsure if it’s wise to attempt standing yet. It’s been so long since he’s had one this bad and he debates on whether he should call his doctor to let her know before ultimately deciding against it.</p><p>Akaashi is already taking the maximum dose of his medication and there’s nothing she can recommend for him at this point other than surgery, which he’s steadfastly refused for the last six years. He uses some toilet paper to wipe his mouth and then flushes the evidence away, watching it all disappear. No one at work knows about his condition and he intends to keep it that way.</p><p>He must look like shit because Azuma doesn’t say a word when he gets back to his desk, just silently offers a throat lozenge that he accepts with a grateful nod. Akaashi doesn’t trust himself to be able to speak right now. </p><p>His phone buzzes with a text message notification and he looks down, chest tightening again when he sees this time it really is from Bokuto.</p><p>Owl Man: akaashi!!!!!! im coming back to tokyo on saturday for a week and was wondering if i could crash at your place while im there???? i know ur busy so i asked kuroo first but he said he and kenma dont have space o(〒﹏〒)o </p><p>Since when is Bokuto aware of what Akaashi’s life is like? Sure he’s busy with work but Akaashi can’t remember the last time they even spoke about it, or him. Most of their communication these days is Akaashi texting Bokuto to say he did well in the latest game, or asking how Hinata is, and Bokuto responding to those messages.</p><p>Still, it would be shitty for him to say no. He has a break after his upcoming deadline and enough PTO in the bank that he can afford to take some time off. Maybe it’ll be okay to see Bokuto face to face again and not from the stands or through a television or phone screen. </p><p>He maybe follows him and his teammates on twitter with a fake account so he can live vicariously on the crumbs of photos they all post on social media. </p><p>Bokuto looks happy with his new life and, despite everything, Akaashi is still supposedly his friend. He should probably start acting like it. </p><p>Akaashi: Of course, Bokuto-san. I’ll make up the spare room for you. Do you need me to come pick you up from the train station? </p><p>The chat bubble appears and disappears several times while Bokuto types out his reply, as if he isn’t sure what to say. Akaashi chalks it up to technology instead because that makes more sense to him. </p><p>Owl Man: nah i can take a cab i still know ur address!!! ur a lifesaver akaashi ty (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡</p><p>Akaashi’s stomach flip flops at the little heart and he puts his phone down for a moment, forcing himself to take a deep breath.</p><p><i>Bokuto is free with his affections. He loves his friends. This doesn’t mean anything and you aren’t special.</i> </p><p>A familiar mantra, and still effective even after all these years. He picks his phone back up again.</p><p>Akaashi: Anytime, Bokuto-san. Text me when your train arrives.</p><p>He doesn’t get any more messages from Bokuto after that and his phone silently mocks him from the corner of his desk for the rest of the afternoon.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀</p>
</div>Bokuto is going to be here any minute and Akaashi isn’t even nearly ready, emotionally or physically.<p>He makes a last round of his apartment to make sure he hasn’t missed any stray MSBY merch in his last two sweeps, heart in his throat and flower petals in his throat. He’d read somewhere that the success of an athlete’s career hinges on two factors; their athletic ability of course, and the power of their fan base. It does make sense, at least to Akaashi. The more popular an athlete is, the more desirable they are for a team to have them. The more pull they have to fill seats, the bigger the push for them to be on the starting lineup. </p><p>So Akaashi maybe collects Bokuto’s stuff. Boxes full every time there’s a new line of clothing and knick knacks with his name and number. If he were a normal fan he’d probably even display these items. Wear the shirts to work, or out to do groceries. </p><p>But the last thing he needs is one of his coworkers or friends to show up to his apartment and see it plastered with wall to wall MSBY Black Jackals player #12 merchandise. </p><p>That being said, he does wear one of the jerseys to sleep in. It’s so oversized it falls almost to his knees, and Akaashi’s worn it so much that the lettering in Bokuto’s name has started to fade. It’s comfortable and makes him feel just a little less alone in the world, even if only for a little while. </p><p>He has five more in a box hidden at the back of his closet along with everything else he’s bought. </p><p>He’d be absolutely mortified if Bokuto found any of this and he reluctantly stuffs the jersey and the silver furred teddy bear wearing a matching mini jersey into one of the less full boxes. It joins the more pristine jersey he usually wears when he’s actually able to attend one of Bokuto’s games. </p><p>It helps him blend into the crowd so Bokuto doesn’t catch him. </p><p>He had stopped inviting Akaashi to his games when Akaashi was a sophomore in college and too busy with school work to even breathe, nevermind travel for volleyball games.</p><p>Akaashi never tells him he still watched every single game, even if only on his television while he studied. </p><p>He’d started attending the games in traveling distance again, now in secret, once he’d started his new job and grew comfortable with his career. He’d take work with him to do on the train rides to and from the games, and stay up late into the night to make sure projects are done on time if necessary. </p><p>At one point he’d had a close call with Atsumu when he’d run into the man in the lobby outside of the stadium, but his eyes had only stayed on Akaashi for a few heart stopping moments before they slid away, disinterested. The MSBY hat pulled low over his forehead to obscure his hair and the black rimmed glasses on his face probably helped with that; the only times they’d previously crossed paths were before Akaashi got his glasses. </p><p>So his secret remains safe, and Akaashi figures it doesn’t really hurt anyone for him to attend the games. Plus, it gives him the chance to buy handmade merch from other fans in the crowd, on top of the match exclusive merch being sold at stands within the venue. </p><p>Akaashi never bothers to have a conversation with himself over the unofficial stuff he collects. If the fans think there’s a higher demand for Bokuto because of his purchases, then that can only benefit Bokuto.</p><p>Obviously.</p><p>The doorbell trills and Akaashi narrowly avoids immediately puking on his shoes. Not flowers this time, just the remains of dry toast and rice he’d barely managed to choke down that morning for breakfast. </p><p>He smooths sweaty palms down the front of his sweater and makes his way over to his front door, standing in front of it as if it were some impossible thing. </p><p>The doorbell rings a second time.</p><p>Akaashi can’t avoid this any longer. He grips the doorknob and forces himself to twist it, pulling the door inward to reveal-</p><p>No one? </p><p>His doorstep is empty and Akaashi steps out to see no one is there. </p><p>“I’m gonna murder those fucking kids,” he hisses, running a shaky hand through his hair and messing up the careful way he had arranged it just minutes before. </p><p>“You’re gonna murder who, Akaashi?” an amused voice asks from behind him and he twists to see Bokuto has now actually, finally arrived. His luggage is standing behind him and he has a backpack swung over one broad shoulder. Have they gotten even wider since the last time Akaashi saw him play in person?</p><p>He swallows dryly, struggling to remember how to make words as his brain attempts to comprehend the reality of his current situation.</p><p>Bokuto is here. Actually, really here, in the flesh.</p><p>For an entire week. </p><p>“Hi,” he finally manages, almost choking on it. How embarrassing would that be? </p><p>“Hi,” Bokuto laughs back, and Akaashi watches as he fidgets excitedly from side to side, still full of the same bottomless energy that Akaashi had known from their high school days together. </p><p>And he falls in love all over again.</p><p>Akaashi is so monumentally, royally, absolutely, beyond the shadow of a doubt, <i>fucked.</i></p><p>“Are you gonna invite me in?” Bokuto asks with a nervous smile and Akaashi’s brain reboots itself, startling him forward and reaching his arms out to take the handle of his rolling luggage from him. </p><p>“Of course! I- Sorry. These kids like to ring doorbells and then take off and it just throws me off balance,” he explains lamely, gesturing for Bokuto to go into his apartment while he follows behind. </p><p>He sets Bokuto up in the guest room and leaves him to settle in and unpack while he returns to the kitchen to check that the dinner he’s making is still cooking without issue on the stove. </p><p>“Is that yakiniku?” a voice in his ear asks and Akaashi only has a split second to panic before Bokuto is crowding up behind him, hands planting on the counter on either side of his hips so he can peek over Akaashi and get a better look at what he’s cooking. </p><p>Akaashi almost ruins everything right then and there by vomiting what feels like an entire flower bush onto his hard work, but narrowly avoids disaster by keeping it behind his teeth until he can swallow it again. And they say Hanahaki can’t be defeated by sheer willpower alone.</p><p>“I remembered you liked it so I thought I’d pick some up to welcome you back to Tokyo,” he replies stiffly, not daring to move lest the moment end. “I only have a griddle so it won’t be as good as it would be on a proper grill but I hope it’s okay.” </p><p>Bokuto’s body is firm and warm against his back, and Akaashi can feel the rise and fall of his stupidly broad chest with each breath he takes. His heart doesn’t start beating again until Bokuto finally steps back, the tension leaving his body with physical distance now reestablished between them. </p><p>“I forgot how much you like touching,” Akaashi manages to tease him, cutting off any awkward reply he might get in return by grabbing a piece of cooked meat off the stove and turning to offer it to Bokuto. For his part Bokuto doesn’t seem fazed by Akaashi’s fairly poor attempt at hiding his relief at the moment ending, and Akaashi is grateful to not have to deal with an emo Bokuto within the first hour. </p><p>He’s not sure he knows what to say to make him feel better anymore. </p><p>Bokuto grins widely and grabs Akaashi’s wrist to steady his hand before he leans forward to bite the meat from the outstretched chopsticks, and at this point Akaashi almost swears he’s fucking with him on purpose. Did Kuroo say something to him? Does Bokuto know about Akaashi’s feelings and think it’s a joke?</p><p>Bokuto releases his wrist and chews with a thoughtful expression before his face lights up, looking at Akaashi like he’s the most amazing thing he’s ever seen.</p><p>“Akaashi!! This is amazing, I didn’t realize you got so good at cooking!”</p><p><i>Bokuto is free with his affections. He loves his friends. This doesn’t mean anything and you aren’t special.</i> </p><p>Akaashi feels his face heating up and quickly turns his back on the other man, dropping his chopsticks beside the stove and taking a deep, steadying breath. </p><p>“I need to go to the bathroom but I’ll be back in a minute to finish dinner. Then we can eat and you can tell me how things have been, yeah?” he chokes out, side stepping Bokuto and walking quickly down the hallway to his small bathroom at the end. He just barely makes it in time to lock the door and twist on the sink to cover the noise before he’s on his knees, heaving hated red flowers into the toilet. This episode only lasts about a minute at least and he takes a few extra seconds to catch his breath, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. </p><p>How exactly is he supposed to survive a whole week with Bokuto? </p><p>He swallows thickly and forces himself back up on shaky legs before flushing the toilet, once again banishing the evidence of his embarrassing one sided attraction from sight and mind. Akaashi has lived with this for over six years, surely he can make it through seven measly days? Not even seven whole days, since Bokuto arrived late on day one and would be leaving early on day seven. So more like five days. Five and a half tops. Akaashi can do five and a half days. </p><p>The medication bottle is heavy in his hand when he extricates it from his hiding place under the sink. He’s already taken today’s doses, but he had just come so close to puking flowers in Bokuto’s face, and he’s terrified to risk it again. Surely it won’t hurt him to just take an extra dose when he needs it, just to get through to when Bokuto leaves again?</p><p>He scoops water into his palm and chokes it down with the pill before he returns the bottle back to where it belongs, steeling himself for what he has to do. </p><p>“Sorry about that,” Akaashi tells Bokuto in a pleasant voice, returning to the stove so he can check to make sure the meat hasn’t burned. Bokuto is sitting at the table now, watching Akaashi with intense yellow eyes that almost make him squirm. The medication seems to help though because no flowers come and he internally celebrates as he portions out the meal onto two plates. </p><p>He makes sure to keep all the overcooked pieces for himself while Bokuto gets the best ones, along with a bowl of rice and a couple of other side dishes Akaashi had prepared. </p><p>Bokuto tells him all about his new team between large, enthusiastic bites of food, and Akaashi just sits and listens. His food sits untouched while he watches Bokuto wave his arms to illustrate a story about Hinata, his chin propped up on his palm and his eyes soft with fondness. He’s always loved listening to Bokuto talk and this time is no different. Even the heavy ache in his chest is still the same as it’s always been.</p><p>In return, Akaashi tells him about his work with the publishing company. Of the popular writers he’s met, and which ones are the worst at meeting their deadlines. He explains the manga series he’s helping edit right now and why it’s such an inconvenience when the printers refuse to meet them halfway. It feels good having Bokuto’s undivided attention again. No volleyball practice, or homework, or handsy blond setters to get in the middle of things.</p><p>It’s late by the time they decide to go to bed and Akaashi pauses in the doorway to his bedroom when he feels a broad hand on his elbow, turning back to look up at Bokuto. </p><p>When had he gotten so tall?</p><p>“I’ve missed you, ‘Kaashi,” Bokuto murmurs, and Akaashi’s heart crumbles into ruins in his chest, only to bloom again in the form of angry red flowers scratching at the back of his throat. Bokuto’s eyes are intense, boring into his own so hard he fears that Bokuto can see right through him. </p><p>“I’ve missed you too, Bokuto-san,” he whispers back hoarsely. For one long, agonizing moment, he thinks Bokuto might kiss him, and he’s transported back to that chilly rainy day, huddled against Bokuto for warmth so closely that their breath mingles together when they exhale. </p><p>But then Bokuto blinks and pulls away, leaving Akaashi feeling colder than he had been before when he was soaking wet and so painfully in love with his best friend. </p><p>He wraps his arms around himself and smiles, letting his eyes drop to the wood floor. </p><p>“Sleep well, Bokuto-san,” he sighs before closing the bedroom door behind him. </p><p>If he digs out the Bokuto teddy bear from the closet and buries his face in it until the silver fur is hot and clumpy with tears, well. That’s between it and Akaashi.</p>
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</div>As it turns out, Akaashi might just actually make it through this week after all.<p>Bokuto apologizes profusely the next morning at breakfast and says that he’ll be gone for the day to visit his parents. The feeling in Akaashi’s stomach is indiscernible, but it tastes a little like both relief and sadness as he waves off the apologies around a mouthful of much needed coffee. </p><p>“They’re your parents, Bokuto-san. Of course they want to see you while you’re here,” he murmurs, eyes closed as he tries to imagine what it would be like to wake up every day to see Bokuto, hair mussed and face puffy with sleep, sitting in his kitchen. </p><p>Eating the breakfast Akaashi had made. Scrolling mindlessly through twitter maybe while Akaashi pours them both a mug of tea. </p><p>Stealing a sleepy kiss or two as he walks by. Snowflakes drifting lazily through the sky outside the small window above his sink. The weight of Bokuto’s hand on his hip, tugging him closer.</p><p>It’s a familiar daydream, exacerbated by the actual living nightmare he’s currently experiencing. </p><p>Akaashi is glad he took his medication already.</p><p>“Just text me when you’re headed back and we can go to the store so you can pick up some snacks and things for yourself. I tried my best to remember the things you like, but I’m sure you’re on a special diet and…” Akaashi trails off when he glances up and sees Bokuto staring at him much like Akaashi had looked at <i>him</i> last night.</p><p>Head propped up in his hand, eyes full of warmth. </p><p>“Stuff,” he finishes lamely, not sure what he had been about to say. The vice is back again, squeezing around his chest so tight that Akaashi is afraid to breathe just in case his ribs snap like brittle twigs.</p><p>“You’re cute when you’ve just woken up,” Bokuto teases suddenly, and Akaashi chokes on his coffee, not expecting those kinds of words to come out of his friend’s mouth. It takes him a second to clear his throat and he gawks at the man across the table who looks- pleased?</p><p>For some reason that annoys the shit out of him and he scowls, covering one of his ears to try and hide the redness he can feel spreading over his face. </p><p>“Shut up, just go get ready before your Mom calls and yells at me to make sure you’re on time,” he grumbles, sinking down into his seat. Bokuto laughs all the way to the bathroom and Akaashi wishes he could just melt into the floor. </p><p><i>This doesn’t mean anything and you aren’t special.</i> </p><p>Maybe he should just get it tattooed on the palm of his hand at this point. </p><p>Bokuto manages to leave his apartment on time and Akaashi is left blissfully alone for the rest of the day. He gets a bit more cleaning done, reassembles the disaster that Bokuto had made of the blankets on the guest bed, starts a load of laundry. </p><p>Figuring he may as well take advantage of the peace and quiet he settles down on the couch with his work laptop and brings up his latest project. Maybe if he gets a head start on it he won’t be considering the merits of throwing himself off the roof of the office building by the time the deadline rolls around. </p><p>You know, like every other month. </p><p>He’s so focused on it that he doesn’t even realize how late it’s gotten until his phone buzzes beside him, startling his gaze up from his screen for the first time in hours. It’s Bokuto, and Akaashi sighs when he realizes it’s almost 7 at night, long after the time the silver haired man was supposed to be back.</p><p>Owl Man: akaashiiiiiiiiiiiii ｡ﾟ(*´□`)ﾟ｡ im sorry its so late i fell asleep after dinner and no one woke me up!!! im gonna stay here 2night ill be back by lunch if thats okay o(；△；)o</p><p>What’s Akaashi supposed to say, no?</p><p>Akaashi: Of course, Bokuto-san. Have fun with your parents and i’ll see you tomorrow. </p><p>It takes a few minutes for Bokuto to answer back and by that point Akaashi has closed his work laptop, officially done with…. Everything.</p><p>The phone vibrates loudly on the glass top of his coffee table.</p><p>Owl Man: ur the best!! have a good night akaashi (ﾟ▽ﾟ｀*) </p><p>Akaashi’s stomach growls but he doesn’t feel much like eating, so he takes his phone to the bathroom so he can at least wash his face. He takes his evening medication dose and brushes his teeth before tapping out a quick response to Bokuto.</p><p>Akaashi: Sleep well, Bokuto-san.</p><p>He digs out the box again and extricates his jersey and stuffed animal, figuring he may as well sleep comfortably since Bokuto won’t be back until the afternoon. The familiar texture of the jersey against his skin is comforting and he sighs, falling into his bed with a soft whump. </p><p>Five more days and then Bokuto will be gone from his life again. </p><p>Akaashi rolls onto his side and curls around the stuffed bear, burying his face in its silver fur to block out the rest of his bedroom.</p><p>What will happen after he leaves? Would they be better about keeping in contact this time, or will things just return to how they were before he arrived?</p><p>He’s not sure he can go back to a few texts and even fewer phone calls. Clawing for scraps from the table while <i>Miya Atsumu</i> gets to hang all over Bokuto during every interview. </p><p>Getting over his irrational jealousy for Bokuto’s setter should probably be a priority on his to do list. It’s a useless feeling and only causes Akaashi more harm in the end. Atsumu is there in the present and Akaashi will always be here, in the past.</p><p><i>Not for the moment though,</i> he thinks viciously, tugging his blankets up over his head until he’s completely engulfed. <i>Right now the present is mine.</i></p><p>Akaashi isn’t sure which bitter thought is the one that sends him to sleep but he’s jarred awake at way too early o’clock by a loud banging at his front door. The sun is barely in the sky and he’s too sleep fogged to even consider the obvious, too annoyed to think it through when he practically vaults out of bed and down the hall, determined to catch these dumb kids once and for all. </p><p>“If you don’t clear out and stay out I’m going to call your mothers and make sure they give you the earful you-”</p><p>Akaashi stops dead as the door swings open and he sees a stunned Bokuto standing there instead of a gang of cackling pre teens, mouth hanging open at him as he digests what he’s seeing. </p><p>“Bokuto-san you’re back early,” he says dumbly, shivering when the cold morning air breezes across his bare legs. That’s when he comes to the very horrifying realization of what has just occurred.</p><p>He’s standing in front of the man he’s secretly loved for almost a full third of his life, wearing quite literally nothing except a shirt. A shirt that falls just barely to mid thigh and leaves very little to the imagination.</p><p>A jersey, actually, that has an enormous, impossible to miss number 12 embroidered on it below the MSBY Black Jackals team logo. </p><p>Bokuto shoves him back into the apartment and closes the door behind him, advancing on Akaashi until he has him backed up against a wall with nowhere to run. Palms callused from years of volleyball slam against the wall on either side of him and cage him in, leaving Akaashi to stare hopelessly up at the other man. </p><p>The expression on Bokuto’s face defies Akaashi’s understanding. He looks almost… pained? Mostly he just seems absolutely furious. </p><p>“I can explain,” Akaashi mumbles weakly, shivering from the icy panic crawling up his spine. He silently begs the flowers in his lungs to let this moment pass unmarked. </p><p>Bokuto draws back just enough to look Akaashi up and down, and his knees threaten to buckle under the intense scrutiny of that stare. He’s suddenly horribly aware of his pale legs and the softness they’ve gained in the years since high school, no longer defined by constant volleyball and exercise but rather by long hours sitting at his desk or on his couch. The structure of sturdy muscle is gone from his thighs and stomach and combined with poor diet, a pitiful sleep routine, and a debilitating chronic illness, all leave Akaashi on the leaner side now. </p><p>Compared to someone Miya Atsumu, who looks like he’s been carved from the same flawless granite as Bokuto, he’s sure he’s nothing even remotely interesting to look at. </p><p>“Then explain,” Bokuto prompts, his eyes returning to bore into Akaashi’s once more. </p><p>His traitorous mind urges him to take the plunge. To close the last few inches between him and the love of his stupid life and finally kiss him. </p><p>Then at least he’ll know one way or another.</p><p>But he chickens out and drops his gaze, pressing himself back against the wall so hard his back begins to ache.</p><p>“I was, um. I was doing laundry. This was the first clean thing I found in the closet last night before I went to bed,” he finally answers in a hoarse whisper, almost collapsing with relief when Bokuto seems to accept that and draws away from him slightly. </p><p>“Oh,” the silver haired man says, and Akaashi is confused by the way he sounds just a little bit lost. </p><p>The flowers rising up his throat don’t give him the chance to second guess what just happened though and he ducks under Bokuto’s arm while he’s distracted and flees down the hall with excuses about needing to shower, knees finally giving out once he’s closed the door behind him. He doesn’t make it to the toilet though and his chest heaves as he vomits bloody flowers down the front of his jersey, red soaking into white embroidery and staining it. </p><p>This episode lasts a little longer than normal and by the time it’s over he’s left shivering and numb, his beloved jersey ruined by the force of his lies. Akaashi carefully peels it over his head and bundles up the buds within the folds of fabric, shoving it deep into the back of the cabinet beneath his sink to be dealt with after Bokuto has gone. </p><p>The tears don’t start falling until he’s cleaned up the stray flecks of blood and flower petals from the bathroom floor and flushed them all away, but he can’t get them to stop once they do. Why is this happening to him? Why can’t he just be normal?</p><p>Why does he have to love Bokuto Koutarou so much it’s literally fucking killing him?</p><p>He boils himself in the shower until he manages to get himself back under control, unnerved by how red eyed and blotchy he looks when he finally catches sight of himself in the bathroom mirror. Nothing he can do about it now, he’s already been in the bathroom way too long for Bokuto to not be getting suspicious. </p><p>Choking down his medication, Akaashi wraps his towel around himself and flees to the safety of his bedroom.</p><p>And oh god, his bedroom door has been wide open and the Bokuto teddy bear is sitting proudly perched on top of his blankets, obvious to anyone who, say, walked down the hall to get to the spare room. </p><p>He thinks he might be sick again and sinks down to sit on the floor, taking a few deep, steadying breaths in an attempt to get his haywire anxiety back under control. This cannot be happening.</p><p>This <i>cannot</i> be happening. </p><p>Maybe Bokuto didn’t see it. Maybe he’d just gone straight to the kitchen, or perhaps to the living room to sit down on the couch while he waited for Akaashi to finish showering. </p><p>He throws the bear back into the depths of his closet and slams the door shut for good measure.</p><p>Akaashi steps cautiously down the hallway towards the kitchen and he’s not sure what he’s more terrified of: Bokuto being there or Bokuto <i>not</i> being there. What if he freaked him out? What if Bokuto felt this was all too much and decided to just leave and go stay with his parents? </p><p>Relief and panic in equal amounts floods his mind when he sees Bokuto sitting at the kitchen table, eyes trained on his phone with an alarming intensity. </p><p>“Bokuto-san? The bathroom is yours if you want to shower,” Akaashi’s voice is raspy even to his own ears, strained by the violent attack he’d had earlier. Bokuto looks up and the smile on his face seems forced. Awkward. </p><p>Fuck. </p><p>“I showered before I left my parents’ house actually, so I’m good!” he replies cheerily, gesturing at the chair across from him. “I made coffee if you want any?”</p><p>God please yes. </p><p>They sit in semi uncomfortable silence while Akaashi drinks his coffee and he’s not sure what to say right now to change the mood considering he’d been the cause of it. How could be so careless and stupid, literally on the first day. He couldn’t wait to fuck up until the end of the week when at least Bokuto would be leaving soon? </p><p>“So I was thinking,” Bokuto begins, almost startling Akaashi right out of his seat. He covers his embarrassment with a cough and nods for Bokuto to go on. </p><p>“My Dad gave me two day passes to Disney that he’d won in a raffle at work. He said he doesn’t have the time to go, and my Mom isn’t much for rides anyways. And I was thinking... since I’m here and all, and we didn’t have anything planned for today other than groceries, maybe, you would like to go with me?”</p><p>Akaashi blinks. That was one of the last things he expected from Bokuto after how much of a fool he’d made of himself in front of him this morning. It almost sounds like he’s asking him on a date, even.</p><p>“I-” he starts, then stops, unsure of what to say. </p><p><i>Just do it and pretend it’s a date. He won’t know and what’s the harm?</i> his subconscious purrs, wicked and cruel. </p><p>“I’d like that, Bokuto-san.” </p><p>He hopes he doesn’t end up regretting this. </p><p>Akaashi pockets an extra pill before they leave, just in case.</p>
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</div>Akaashi is definitely gonna end up regretting this.<p>The energy behind Bokuto’s smile could power the entire nation and all that vibrance is focused squarely on Akaashi. He’s always been a little weak willed when it comes to Bokuto and today? Absolutely not an exception.</p><p><i>If anything,</i> Akaashi thinks as Bokuto places the Minnie Mouse ear headband on top of his head, today is the exception that PROVES the rule.</p><p>The ears are red and made of shiny sequins with little white hearts all over them. He’ll admit they are kind of cute, even if the red silk bow between the ears is a bit much.</p><p>Akaashi had only agreed to this under the condition that be allowed to choose Bokuto’s ears. There’s a whole range of options, from the obnoxious and goofy looking, to the more simple and straightforward. Eventually he opts for a blue pair, also made of sequins, but with white stars instead of hearts, and a blue silk bow. </p><p>He pretends not to notice how they match as he pays for it. </p><p>“Akaaaashiiiiii,” Bokuto whines, tugging him out of the store by his wrist and out into the bright sunshine. They’re somewhere in the center square of the amusement park now, and Akaashi is admittedly impressed by the sight of the castle not far in front of them. He’s never been to Disneyland before, but he’s seen the castle in a thousand and one photos on social media and in magazines. He understands the significance of it and what Bokuto is about to ask him.</p><p>“Let’s take a picture with the castle behind us!” Bokuto implores him, giving him a look that leaves no room for argument. As if Akaashi would resist this.</p><p>He plans to print this photo out and imprint it in his memory forever. In fact, once you disregard the near catastrophe this morning, this entire day is something out of a fantasy, and he’s gonna get his lifetime’s worth if it quite literally kills him.</p><p>“Of course, Bokuto-san,” he replies, shuddering when he’s immediately pulled against Bokuto’s chest. He doesn’t even get the chance to look up before he hears Bokuto’s phone snapping photos, making him groan.</p><p>“How about a photo where I’m actually posing and looking at the camera?” Akaashi chides, squirming against Bokuto’s arm wrapped tight around his waist until he’s actually facing forward.</p><p>He then realizes how close he is to Bokuto’s face now and oh no, this is <i>so</i> much worse. Still… it will be quite the memorable photo.</p><p>So Akaashi embraces it, smiles, and throws up a peace sign. </p><p>“Can you send me all of those? I want to see how bad you made me look,” he teases, stumbling when Bokuto shoves him playfully. </p><p>“As if you could ever look bad!” Bokuto protests, and Akaashi is grateful when he looks down at his phone to do as he’s told anyways because he doesn’t have to explain why his human ears suddenly match his mouse ones. </p><p>His phone buzzes, but he’s surprised to see that it’s a notification from Bokuto’s twitter and not a text with the photos as he expected. Akaashi lets his curiosity get the better of him and, against his better judgement, immediately opens twitter to check the notification.</p><p><b>Hey Hey Hey! @bokutowl12</b> · 1m<br/>
hanging out w my bf today! guess where we are ヾ(≧∇≦)ゞ<br/>
[image.png]</p><p>That Akaashi doesn’t immediately vomit flowers all over his phone? An absolute miracle. Thanks, Disney magic. In the photo Bokuto posted, Akaashi looks the happiest he thinks he’s ever been in… well since Bokuto graduated high school, honestly. His cheek is pressed against Bokuto’s jawline and his eyes are crinkled at the corners, filled with fondness. He’s suddenly glad he wore his contact lenses today and left his glasses at home so there’s no weird glare or reflections to ruin the photo.</p><p>Bokuto is wearing a smile as well, broad and unabashed. His arm is clearly around Akaashi, and their mouse ears are even more obviously a matched set now that he can see them side by side. They look like a couple in every sense of the word, and that’s when the body of Bokuto’s tweet suddenly catches up to him. </p><p>He peeks up to see Bokuto still occupied with his phone and scrolls down through the comments starting to roll in from fans, and he’s relieved that he’s apparently not the only one agonizing over Bokuto’s use of “bf”. </p><p>Most seem convinced that he just means best friend, which. Obviously that’s what he means. Bokuto is a notoriously lazy but enthusiastic texter and that definitely carries over into his social media presence. But a stubborn contingent is arguing that Bokuto is clearly talking about his <i>boyfriend</i> which……………..</p><p>That’s fine too. </p><p>They’re wrong but that’s.</p><p>Just fine. </p><p>He’s especially fond of the few tweets that joke about how Atsumu must be feeling, seeing his Bokuto in the arms of another man. </p><p><i>Suck on that, Miya</i> he thinks to himself, fighting the urge to grin. He “accidentally” hearts a few of those comments. </p><p>Akaashi then screenshots the tweet and shoves his phone away, deciding he’ll wait to look at the other photos Bokuto sent him directly after they get home. Y’know, when he’s not so close to coughing up blood all over the entirety of Disneyland.</p><p>“So where to next, Captain?” he asks, allowing Bokuto to take him by the hand again even if it does make his chest ache something fierce. </p><p><i>Bokuto is free with his affections. He loves his friends. This doesn’t mean anything and you aren’t special.</i> </p><p>Bokuto is beaming at him as if he hasn’t just set the entire MSBY team fanbase and Akaashi ablaze with a single tweet. </p><p>Akaashi kind of adores him so stupidly fucking much. </p><p>“Everywhere, Akaashi! C’mon, I got us the fast passes when we got in so we can ride all the rides!” he cries, squeezing Akaashi’s hand before giving it an enthusiastic tug. </p><p>And so it goes. </p><p>They definitely don’t get to ride <i>all</i> of the rides. For one, Akaashi would rather die than get on any of the rides that drop you from a giant height. He does let Bokuto coax him onto Splash Mountain though and they get absolutely soaked. </p><p>He spends the next hour fighting a persistent case of dry mouth at the sight of Bokuto’s soaked black shirt clinging to every single line and ridge of muscle on his body. Based on the looks they get, he’s not alone in his existential struggle. Bokuto is, quite objectively, absolutely fucking gorgeous.</p><p>The wing spiker had been attractive when they were in high school together but he has grown into a man these last couple years. Akaashi is pretty sure Bokuto can bench press him one handed at this point, and wow is <i>that</i> something to consider.</p><p>Later. Definitely later. Alone in his bedroom with his favorite vibrator after Bokuto has left later. </p><p>Bokuto sees his flush pink face and thinks he’s getting overheated in the sun so they stop at a little cafe for lunch. Everything is Peter Pan themed and Akaashi can’t help but get sucked into the charm of it all, staring around in wonder. </p><p>“How have I never come here before?” he wonders aloud.</p><p>He catches Bokuto staring at him again and smiles back, heart thudding wildly in his chest. It feels so much like a date and Akaashi isn’t sure he ever wants the day to end. </p><p>“Maybe you just didn’t have a reason until now,” Bokuto replies with a one shouldered shrug, “Or the right person to go with you.” </p><p>Akaashi doesn’t get the chance to ask him what he means because that’s the moment their waiter appears to take their order. By the time that’s done and they’re alone again, the moment has been forgotten. </p><p>It’s getting dark when they’re making their second round through the theme park. Akaashi is starting to get tired but Bokuto seems as energized as ever, still bouncing in front of him like he’s on springs. There’s a mirror maze fun house set up nearby the Haunted Mansion ride, and all it takes is one pleading wide eyed look from Bokuto for Akaashi to give in.</p><p>So much for having gained any willpower against him since they were teenagers. </p><p>“Are you sure about this?” he asks as they slowly advance through the line. This isn’t one of the occasions where their fast passes apply, so they’re stuck waiting in the regular line with everyone else. </p><p>Akaashi doesn’t really mind it though. Spending time with Bokuto in line is still spending time with Bokuto.</p><p>There’s a lot of screaming from inside the maze however and it’s filling him with apprehension. The signs scattered through the line warn against breaking any of the screens and mirror panels, and advise that children under 13 be accompanied by an adult. </p><p>“Of course, Akaashiiiii,” Bokuto whines, poking Akaashi in the sides with his fingers until he squirms to get away. “It’s gonna be fun okay? I promise. Just stick with me and I’ll protect you.” </p><p>It’s their turn to enter and Akaashi attempts to glue himself to Bokuto, hoping he can avoid throwing a reflexive punch and breaking his hand on a very solid glass wall.</p><p>Bokuto for his part seems to be having a blast. He screams and then laughs, whereas Akaashi just screams. The mirrors are dizzying and it’s hard to navigate in the dim lighting, causing them to run into walls more often than not. </p><p>Akaashi may not have been in many haunted mirror mazes in his lifetime, but even he knows something is wrong when all the lights suddenly go out and they’re plunged into pitch black. In his shock he releases his death grip on Bokuto’s arm and presses himself against the wall, desperate to ground himself to literally anything in the impossible darkness. </p><p>Getting him to admit it out loud would be impossible, but Akaashi is perhaps just a little afraid of the dark. Not so much that he can’t handle your average darkness, really. He has little outlet lights plugged into all his rooms, but that’s so he doesn’t run into things walking around his house at night, alright? </p><p>This kind of dark though, without a single shred of light? The kind of inky blackness that wraps around you and fills up your lungs until you can’t breathe. </p><p>Anyone would be well within their rights to be a little freaked out. </p><p>He gropes in his back pocket for his phone and groans when he comes up empty. His phone is with the rest of their possessions and souvenirs, secured in a locker so they don’t have to worry about losing anything on the rides. All he has is his useless wallet and an even more useless locker key. </p><p>“B-Bokuto-san?” His voice quavers just a little bit. He doesn’t hear anything in reply. </p><p>The PA system crackles to let everyone know that there’s been a minor technical difficulty and that they should stay put to avoid injury while cast members come through with flashlights to find everyone. </p><p>Akaashi sinks down onto the ground and hugs his knees to his chest, trying to remember the breathing exercises his doctor had taught him. They’re more intended to help him when he feels a Hanahaki attack coming on and he can’t get to a bathroom, but he’s sure they can also help him here.</p><p>Where is Bokuto? Had he taken off when the lights went out? Did he run into something and hurt himself and now he’s bleeding and Akaashi can’t see him or help him because it’s so dark it’s just so fucking dark-</p><p>He’s hyperventilating and light headed now, anxiety filling his brain with an endless string of nightmare scenarios, each one more terrible and convoluted than the last. What if Bokuto abandoned him and this time never comes back? What if he’s finally gone forever?</p><p>His ears are ringing so loudly and he doesn’t hear someone shouting nearby. It isn’t until familiar hands are grabbing his shoulders that Bokuto’s voice cuts through the panic, yelling his name over and over. </p><p>It’s still dark and Akaashi can’t see the person hauling him back onto his feet and throwing their arms around him, but he knows it’s Bokuto. He’d always recognize him, even if he were to be struck deaf and blind this instant. </p><p>“It’s okay, I’ve got you now,” Bokuto murmurs in his ear and Akaashi shudders, burying his face in his throat as gentle hands stroke through his hair. </p><p>“You were gone,” he sobs, curling his fingers into Bokuto’s shirt as if the wing spiker will just vanish into thin air again. “You left me behind again and I couldn’t find you!” </p><p>Bokuto’s arms tighten around him and rock them both gently in place, attempting to soothe the distraught Akaashi.</p><p>“But I came back, Keiji. I’ll always come back to you. I promised I would, didn’t I?” </p><p>Akaashi sniffles wetly, turning so he can bury his face in Bokuto’s shirt. He smells faintly like cologne and shampoo and Akaashi is filled with such an intense sense of longing that it hurts. It hurts so bad and he doesn’t know what to do to make it stop.</p><p>“Yeah, you did,” he whispers, but he isn’t sure Bokuto hears him. He’s shaking like a leaf after his mortifying episode and Bokuto seems to catch onto his internal struggle because the hands on his back are suddenly under his thighs, lifting him up as if he weighs no more than a loaf of bread. </p><p>“Bokuto-san!” Akaashi protests, throwing his arms around his shoulders to keep from falling back as he’s hauled into the air. He’s sure if the lights came back on this instant his face would actually be on fire. </p><p>“Bokuto, I’m not a child, I can walk!” </p><p>Bokuto hums but does not acknowledge him, carefully stepping forward and using his elbows and shoulders to feel along the walls for a path through the darkness. </p><p>“They said we should stay put until they come and get us,” he grumbles petulantly, trying to wipe his face clean on his sleeve as best as he can without letting go of Bokuto.</p><p>“Yeah but you don’t like the dark.” Bokuto’s reply is so matter of fact, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Akaashi doesn’t like the dark, so they’re leaving, even if the smart and safe thing to do is wait like they were told.</p><p>And Akaashi almost tells him.</p><p>Right there in the dark with tear stains on his cheeks and flower petals in his heart, Akaashi almost tells him.</p><p>But then they’re emerging from the attraction and he sees the crowd of strangers waiting outside and he loses his courage again.</p><p>Bokuto seems to sense his returning anxiety and keeps his hold on him until they get through the crowd, only letting Akaashi go when he finds an unoccupied bench to set him down on. He doesn’t say anything about the state Akaashi is in, or the mess he’s no doubt still got on his face. Just smiles and gestures at the food stand a few feet away from where they’re sitting.</p><p>“I’m gonna get you some water, okay?”</p><p>Akaashi isn’t proud of himself, but he reaches out to catch Bokuto’s hand before he gets more than a step away, halting his progress. He refuses to look him in the eye though and keeps his gaze firmly trained on the ground, ears turning red with shame.</p><p>“You’ll be right back?” he asks in a hoarse whisper. Akaashi balks when Bokuto squats down to force himself into his field of vision, and his expression is so impossibly, unbelievably <i>soft</i> that Akaashi wants to cry all over again. </p><p>“I promise, ‘Kaashi. I’ll always come back to you,” Bokuto murmurs, and his voice is so earnest and filled with such strong sincerity that it grips Akaashi’s heart and holds fast. He nods once and releases Bokuto’s wrist, allowing him to bound off towards the food cart. </p><p>He returns shortly with two bottles of water, some napkins, and an ice cream bar shaped like Mickey Mouse dipped in chocolate. </p><p>“Here. All they had was ice cream, but you should eat something. You were shaking pretty bad earlier,” Bokuto instructs, handing him the treat, and Akaashi decides he could get used to this.</p><p>Letting Bokuto take care of him, that is. When was the last time he let <i>anyone</i> care for him? Certainly not in recent memory. It’s… really nice. </p><p>Bokuto wets a couple of napkins and presses them against Akaashi’s forehead, and the cool dampness is soothing against his flushed and sweaty skin. The ice cream is a little too sweet but he eats it anyways, letting it settle heavy in his stomach. </p><p>When he finally dares to open his eyes again, he finds Bokuto is once more staring at him with the same intensity that he’s had for the last couple days. Akaashi doesn’t understand it, or him.</p><p>
  <i>Now. Tell him now.</i>
</p><p>“Bokuto-san, I-”</p><p>“Akaashi-”</p><p>They both start to speak at the same time and then stop, blinking at one another until Bokuto finally gestures for Akaashi to go first.</p><p>“Bokuto-san, I…” He pauses, unsure again. He’s just spent the best day of his entire life with someone he had, until two days ago, thought lost to him forever. Does he really want to screw it all up again by telling Bokuto that he loves him?</p><p>And what if Bokuto rejects him? Akaashi will start violently coughing up flowers and wouldn’t that be a sight in the middle of a theme park full of children. He’d probably end up on the news and god, if they found out who Bokuto was, it could impact his career. </p><p>Worse still, Akaashi would have no choice but to get the surgery. He’d lose his memories of Bokuto and of ever being in love, and as much as loving him has been agony for the past six years, it’s been a sweet kind of suffering. Loving Bokuto is part of who he is and he doesn’t want to lose that. He <i>can’t</i> lose him again.</p><p>“Thank you,” he says instead, smiling almost sadly at the man sitting next to him on the park bench. “For everything. For today and for.. Coming back to get me.” </p><p>Bokuto’s face falls for just a brief moment before the grin returns to his face, a little more forced than before, and Akaashi wonders what he had been expecting him to say. </p><p>“Thank you for coming with me, and letting me drag you all around. I’m sorry that last bit didn’t exactly go to plan,” Bokuto chuckles, and they lapse into silence. </p><p>“I guess we should head home,” Akaashi says finally, twirling the ice cream stick between his fingers. “Back, I mean.” </p><p>The smile on Bokuto’s face is small but more genuine this time, and he stands up and offers Akaashi his hand, cocking his head to the side. Akaashi doesn’t hesitate in taking it, legs still a bit quivery in the aftermath of his panic attack. </p><p>“Let’s go home, Akaashi.” </p><p>His heart aches for the rest of the night.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀</p>
</div>Akaashi is embarrassed.<p><i>Beyond</i> embarrassed. </p><p>What happened yesterday is absolutely mortifying. He’d had a full blown meltdown like a little kid just because the lights had gone out. Worse still, he’d freaked out at Bokuto. On Bokuto. He’d sobbed in his arms and, god. </p><p>What an absolute nightmare. </p><p>He feels like a zombie in the kitchen the next morning, staring vacantly at his rice maker as it steams away. Bokuto is in the shower and Akaashi is grateful for the bit of solitude so he can decide whether he’s going to change his name and move to America or just straight up throw himself off the roof. </p><p>Either way, he’s not sure he can face Bokuto ever again.</p><p>His plans to flee the country and live off the grid are dashed when Bokuto finally joins him in the kitchen. The disappointment doesn’t last when the view is quite this good though, and Akaashi tries to be subtle about gawking over the top of his glasses at Bokuto’s arms and shoulders straining against the sleeves of his tidy grey t-shirt. </p><p>Where does he even shop to find tees this fitted? He has to be doing this on purpose. Even his jeans hug his absurdly thick thighs in all the right places. </p><p>Akaashi feels horribly underdressed in his own baggy jeans and worn red t-shirt that bears the logo of the local supermarket he shops at. An irrational feeling considering he’s not even going anywhere today. </p><p>“Will you be back for dinner this time?” he asks, forcing himself to focus back on the rice maker so he can put together their simple breakfast. </p><p>“Akaashi of course I will!” Bokuto whines, bouncing in his seat and pouting at Akaashi as if he had never been late for anything in his entire life, nevermind just this week. </p><p>Akaashi cracks Bokuto’s egg over his rice with a little more force than necessary and Bokuto balks, looking sheepish.</p><p>“I promise I’ll be back on time today.”</p><p>Now mollified, Akaashi sits down at the table and cracks his own egg much more gently. Bokuto would be leaving soon to spend some time with friends from high school that weren’t on the volleyball team, so Akaashi gets the apartment to himself for a bit. He could use a nap quite frankly, so he’s not really too upset about being left alone. </p><p>“Y’know, Washio texted me earlier. He’d heard I’m in town, and is also around visiting family, and was wondering if you and I might be interested in meeting up with some of the old team tomorrow. Maybe play some volleyball at the municipal gym for old time’s sake?” Bokuto announces around a mouthful of rice and egg, and Akaashi definitely notices the way he won’t meet his eyes at the question.</p><p>“I haven’t played since graduating,” Akaashi sighs, swirling his chopsticks in the bowl. He’d stuck around in the third year out of loyalty to Fukurodani and his team but he’d never been as passionate about the sport as Bokuto or Kuroo. Even Tsukishima continues to play in college, but Akaashi had decided to focus his energies elsewhere after graduation. Or rather, he’d been forced to focus his energies elsewhere.</p><p>Bokuto whines, kicking Akaashi lightly under the table. His toes are freezing and Akaashi hisses, recoiling from them and glaring at him. The silver haired man isn’t even remotely sorry, grinning back at him without missing a beat.</p><p>“Come on, ‘Kaashi. It’s just for fun, and you’ll have the advantage of being on the same team as a nationally ranked player, yeah? He said Konoha and Sarukui would come, and that he might even be able to get Komi to join us!” Bokuto wheedles, and Akaashi is tempted to thump his head down on the table.</p><p>He was always going to give into Bokuto so he doesn’t know why he keeps trying to resist. </p><p>“Washio-kun is also Division 1 you know,” Akaashi grumbles, but Bokuto hears the yes in his tone and whoops with excitement. </p><p>Bokuto finishes eating pretty quickly after that and soon he’s sitting in the landing to tie his shoes while Akaashi watches, leaning heavily against the wall in case he falls asleep standing up. </p><p>“Have fun, Bokuto-san,” he mumbles, his eyes hooded and arms crossed over his chest. Bokuto stares at him for several long, unblinking moments, then grins unexpectedly and stands up, reaching out to cup his hand against Akaashi’s cheek.</p><p>“I promise I’ll come home in time for dinner.” </p><p>Akaashi’s sleepy brain doesn’t catch up to what just happened until Bokuto’s already pulling away and stepping out the door. In fact, it’s still struggling to process even as the door closes and he’s left utterly alone again. </p><p>He touches his cheek absently, then lunges down the hallway to the bathroom with remarkable speed for a man only one second ago ready to pass out. Either way, he makes it to the toilet before the first blossoms crawl up his throat this time, and he coughs and splutters and dry heaves for what feels like an eternity before he’s finally running on empty. </p><p>Considering he’d made it through most of yesterday without needing to flee to any of the public restrooms, he’ll count himself incredibly lucky. That reminds him to take his morning pill and he washes it down with a shaky scoop of water from the faucet, grimacing at the acrid tang of blood on his tongue. </p><p>Akaashi’s case of Hanahaki disease is in the advanced stages, even with the medication, and it’s the real reason for why he quit playing volleyball after graduation. The flowers infesting his lungs and stomach didn’t leave him with much breathing capacity or stamina. The medication side effects further reduce his physical capabilities, causing chronic fatigue and pain. When you factor in the nausea that has been his constant companion since high school, the resulting weight drop and loss of muscle mass had been inevitable. Plainly speaking, Akaashi is as broken physically and emotionally by the treatment for his illness as he is by the illness itself. </p><p>But it’s fine. Akaashi works in an office and has no need to be muscular and athletic anymore. </p><p>He picks his glasses up off the floor from where they’d fallen and shoves them back on his face, staring daggers at himself in the mirror. </p><p>While Bokuto has only grown <i>more</i> attractive since the last time Akaashi saw him, Akaashi has just gotten messier. He’s pale from long hours working inside, and the angular features he’d once had have gotten sharper, but not in a pleasant way. He manages to eat enough so that he isn’t outright gaunt, but he’s certainly not in Bokuto’s league. He’s probably not even on the same planet.</p><p>Quite frankly, Akaashi looks half dead, and he supposes it’s only fitting. Outsides matching the insides and all that jazz.</p><p>He heaves a sigh and turns away from his reflection, stumbling down the hallway until he can finally collapse into his blessedly non judgemental bed. Bokuto shouldn’t be back for several hours and as long as he’s up with enough time to make dinner then no one will care if he takes a much needed nap. </p><p>Burrowing under the blanket, Akaashi tosses his glasses on the bedside table and retrieves his cellphone, unlocking the device and flicking it open to Bokuto’s messages from yesterday. </p><p>He’d sent him four photos in all from the impromptu spree at Disney, and each one makes Akaashi’s heart beat just a little bit faster no matter how many times he’s looked at them since getting home last night.</p><p>One in particular is going to end up backed up on every single thing he owns because he cannot and will not risk losing it. </p><p>It shows the brief moment in time where Akaashi had been wriggling to face the camera. His hand is a little blurry, still in the middle of forming the peace sign, and his smile isn’t quite as full as it is in the photo Bokuto had posted on twitter. He doesn’t care about any of that though because he’s looking at Bokuto.</p><p>And Bokuto is looking at <i>him</i>.</p><p>His expression is so soft that Akaashi almost can’t stand it. There’s a small laugh line fracturing out from the corner of Bokuto’s smile, and his eyes are hooded with affection, all his attention focused on Akaashi in that one split instant of time. </p><p>Akaashi doesn’t realize he’s crying until a tear splashes in the middle of the photo, distorting Bokuto’s face in a ripple of wetness. He turns his phone off and shoves it away, turning his head so he can bury his face in his pillow. </p><p>At some point he must fall asleep because when he resurfaces he feels crusty around the edges and disoriented, not sure exactly what’s woken him up. His alarm isn’t going off, so it must still be early.</p><p>He yawns softly and rolls over, stalling when he’s suddenly face to face with a sleeping Bokuto. Akaashi can’t help the shocked yelp that bursts from his mouth. </p><p>Bokuto jerks and then blinks, yellow eyes opening slowly to stare blearily at Akaashi as if <i>he’s</i> the one being weird.</p><p>“‘Kaashi? Why’re y’yelling,” he slurs, and an arm reaches out to wrap around Akaashi’s waist and pull him closer until they’re pressed chest to chest. Akaashi hesitates, then carefully wraps himself around the other man, burying his face in his throat with a nervous shudder.</p><p>When had Bokuto gotten back? And why is he lying in Akaashi’s bed like it’s where he belongs?</p><p>“Bokuto-san,” he mumbles, fighting to stay awake as gentle fingers start stroking through his hair. “Why are you in my bed?”</p><p>Bokuto snorts, drawing back enough so that they can look at one another and Akaashi’s heart skips a beat at how beautifully, wonderfully soft he looks when he’s still half asleep. His silver black hair is unstyled and curling against his forehead, like he’d gone to bed with it still damp from a shower.</p><p>“I’m sleeping in <i>our</i> bed because I’m tired,” Bokuto teases and reaches out to brush gentle fingertips along Akaashi’s cheekbone. It’s then that he finally notices the thin gold band Bokuto is wearing. A quick inspection of his own hand reveals he has a matching one, shiny and warm.</p><p>Something about this is wrong. Akaashi knows it and yet the reason he feels this way is rapidly slipping away from him, like water between his fingers. </p><p>He takes another look at Bokuto and then smiles, slow and sweet like molasses.</p><p>“Yes well if you keep snoring that loudly then it’ll go back to being my bed alone,” he chuckles, melting when Bokuto leans up to steal a soft kiss. </p><p>They stay like that for Akaashi doesn’t care how long, tangled together and kissing sleepily in the peace of the afternoon. Akaashi gasps when Bokuto’s tongue swipes across the seam of his lips and shivers as it presses deep inside, swiping across his soft palate in steady strokes. He shivers, curling his fingers into the front of Bokuto’s shirt in a desperate bid not to float away.</p><p>“B-Bokuto-san,” he whispers when Bokuto finally relinquishes his now puffy red lips, eyes fluttering shut as that wicked mouth starts to blaze a hot, wet trail along Akaashi’s jaw. </p><p>There are hands slipping under the hem of his shirt and Akaashi feels his face heat up when he realizes the only thing he’s currently wearing is Bokuto’s MSBY #12 jersey.  Bokuto doesn’t seem fazed though and sly fingers brush over his stomach and down between his legs, dragging a soft moan from Akaashi when they tease across the head of his cock. </p><p>He’s only half hard, still sleepy and warm in the circle of Bokuto’s embrace, but the teeth nipping along his throat are certainly helping him get where he needs to be. </p><p>“Keijiiiii,” Bokuto whines against the small hickey he’s just made on Akaashi’s pale skin and Akaashi shivers at the darkening edge to his tone. He shoves his hands between them and fights the strings of Bokuto’s pajama pants so he can shove them down and away, sighing when his cock brushes up against the other man’s. </p><p>He feels heavy and floaty when Bokuto’s teasing two of his fingers against Akaashi’s lips, parting them so they can slide inside. </p><p>“Suck them for me, baby. Get ‘em nice and wet okay?” Bokuto chuckles, breath hot against the delicate shell of Akaashi’s ear. </p><p>He groans softly and does as he’s told, curling his tongue around the probing digits to lick and suck. Bokuto’s other hand has slipped between them and curled around their cocks, and when a thumb is swiping teasingly across his slit he almost chokes, teeth scraping against skin. Bokuto’s fingers are heavy in his mouth but Akaashi finds himself silently wishing it was something else sliding down his throat. </p><p>Still, the friction of Bokuto’s palm around their dicks and the hot length of their bodies pressed together is delicious, and Akaashi whimpers when the spit slick digits finally withdraw from between his lips.</p><p>
  <i>This isn’t right, it doesn’t make any sense.</i>
</p><p>Bokuto has a hand beneath his knee and guides his leg to wrap over Bokuto’s hip, pressing them impossibly closer beneath the warm covers. Akaashi almost keens when he realizes where this is going and feels his cock jump just as Bokuto’s fingers ghost against the curve of his ass.</p><p>“G-God, Bokuto please,” he begs in a rasping whisper, hiking his leg up higher in an attempt to open himself even further to those teasing wet fingers. He buries his face into the hollow of Bokuto’s throat and pants for breath, fingers scrambling to find purchase against the thickly corded muscle of the wing spiker’s back.</p><p>He can feel Bokuto’s grin against his temple and it makes him shudder, inhaling sharply when Bokuto’s middle finger is finally pressing up inside of him. The slide is a little harsh with only spit to guide the way but Akaashi doesn’t care. He just doesn’t want this moment to end and he clenches around the thick intrusion, hips jerking against the hand still working him over.</p><p>Bokuto’s cock is a thick, hard line against his own and it provides a slick juxtaposition to the callused roughness of the wing spiker’s palm that Akaashi relishes. His body is overheated and sensitive and it can’t decide whether it wants to thrust forward against the hand on his cock or backwards against the second finger that’s now joining the first in burying itself inside his ass. </p><p>“I wanna make a mess of you, ‘Kaashi,” Bokuto growls against his temple, tongue darting out to tease wickedly along the fragile shell of Akaashi’s ear. “I wanna wreck you and make sure the whole world knows you’re mine.”</p><p>A soft sob wrenches itself from Akaashi’s throat and he accidentally rakes his nails across Bokuto’s shoulders, leaving deep red lines in the aftermath. Devilish fingers crook up inside of him and graze his prostate, causing Akaashi to thrust into the precome slick ring of Bokuto’s hand. </p><p>“Please,” he whimpers, feeling the first tears start to slide down his overheated cheeks. “I’m yours, Koutarou. I’m all yours.” </p><p>Bokuto squeezes on the upstroke just as his fingers stroke hard against Akaashi’s prostate and he comes with an earth shattering wail, spreading sticky wet heat between them in the bed. The silver haired man grunts and follows suit, adding to the mess smeared on their hips and thighs. </p><p>Fingers carefully withdraw from Akaashi’s ass to avoid any oversensitivity, and Akaashi closes his eyes at the sudden emptiness he feels inside of his chest.</p><p>His body is sweat drenched and trembling, Bokuto’s jersey clinging to his skin with each shuddering breath.</p><p>“I love you,” he sniffles, and Bokuto pulls back enough so that they can look at one another, grinning when he sees that Akaashi is still crying. </p><p>“Damn, I know I’m good, ‘Kaashi, but I didn’t think I was that good,” he teases and Akaashi flushes with embarrassment, pinching him vengefully in the side. Bokuto just laughs and leans in to kiss away the tears, capturing Akaashi’s wrist with one of his sticky hands.</p><p>Golden eyes are hooded as they stare at Akaashi, and he’s so enraptured with them that he doesn’t notice the pressure building in his chest.</p><p>Bokuto brings Akaashi’s hand to his lips and presses a soft kiss against the ring around his finger, warm and so impossibly tender.</p><p>“I love-” </p><p>A car backfires outside and Akaashi jolts awake, gasping for breath as his airway, full to bursting and ignored for way too long, finally explodes with agony. The first wave of bloody blossoms lands in his lap, splattering his crisp white sheets with ugly, watery red. Each surge is worse than the one before it, and when it’s finally over Akaashi is left weak and trembling like a leaf, unable to do more than sit there and choke air into abused lungs. </p><p><i>I tried to warn you,</i> his subconscious supplies rather obnoxiously.</p><p>It’s fine. Akaashi is no stranger to hating himself.</p><p>It takes several minutes of sitting there in his own mess and focusing on just breathing before Akaashi is even remotely prepared to try standing, and when he does he grimaces as the sticky slide of blood soaked sheets against his bare skin. With trembling hands he bundles up the entire mess and shoves it deep into his hamper along with his ruined pajamas to be dealt with after Bokuto has gone home. </p><p>He sits down on the carpet in his mostly unscathed boxers and gropes blindly for his phone, pulling up his web browser. It takes a bit of searching, but Akaashi has been looking at these ugly flowers for the last six years, and he recognizes it instantly when he scrolls by a photo amongst all the other results his search for “red flower long petals” has produced. </p><p>The Aster flower. <i>With their wildflower beauty and lush texture, asters have long been considered an enchanted flower. In ancient times, it was thought that the perfume from their burning leaves could drive away evil serpents. Today, they're known as a talisman of love and a symbol of patience. Also known as starworts, Michaelmas daisies or Frost flowers, the name aster is derived from the Greek word “astéri” or "star," and its star-like flowers can be found in a rainbow of colors – white, red, pink, purple, lavender and blue, with mostly yellow centers. Red asters are thought to be the most romantic of the many varieties, as red asters symbolize undying, eternal love that never fades. The red aster flowers send a strong message to another person, and you can always pick this bold color to share your deepest emotions with someone you love. The September birth flower, asters also hold the honor-</i></p><p>Akaashi stops reading at that point and buries his face in his hand, laughing shrilly at the irony of it all. The universe could not have chosen a more insultingly perfect flower if it fucking tried.</p><p>He scrolls down to the part where they get more into detail about the meanings behind the different aster colors, wondering if there’s any kind of explanation for why his blossoms have changed in the years since high school. </p><p>
  <i>Purple asters are symbols of royalty, nobility and beauty. This is the perfect flower to give to someone you find to be a little bit unusual and unique, whereas the color pink symbolizes gentleness, kindness, romance and love. Pink aster flowers are a perfect gift for someone who you love and find to be your soulmate.</i>
</p><p>Akaashi closes his phone and puts it down on the ground beside him, staring blankly at the blood smears drying on his knees. </p><p>There’s a reason he’s avoided looking his blooms up for all these years, and this is exactly why. </p><p>The emptiness yawning inside him that this really is it. That Bokuto is the only one for him and there’s no getting out of this. No easy fix. </p><p>“The name aster is derived from the Greek word for ‘star’,” he murmurs roughly to himself, plucking a stray petal that had been stuck to his skin and studying it, eyes hooded and swollen from crying. </p><p>Of course it is. </p><p>Vague metaphors about shooting stars and northern lights come to mind and Akaashi scoffs quietly, crushing the fragile flower petal between his fingertips.</p><p>Who the fuck cares. </p><p>He checks the time and sighs, realizing he’s slept later than he planned. Bokuto will be back soon and Akaashi needs to collect himself off his bedroom floor and get dinner started before then if he has any chance of making it through the rest of this week unscathed.</p>
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</div>Akaashi is exhausted and the last thing he feels like doing is physical exercise, and yet for some reason he’s actually allowing Bokuto to drag him out of bed at some ungodly hour of the morning to play freaking volleyball.<p>It’s not that he doesn’t want to spend more time with Bokuto, or see their old teammates, but he’s genuinely not sure if he even has the stamina to get through the day in general, nevermind what will likely be multiple games. Hopefully at least he won’t be the only one that’s out of shape.</p><p>As Bokuto bounds ahead of him to greet the other men patiently waiting for them in the municipal gym where Konoha’s volleyball club meets up to play, Akaashi wonders when the last time he’d seen any of them was. He’s spent much of the past several years so busy with college, and now work, that he hardly has any free time to just… hang out with his friends.</p><p><i>No wonder Kuroo’s been worried</i>, he thinks to himself, standing awkwardly to the side while Bokuto and Washio engage in some friendly shit talking. Since the pair of them are in the same division they’re technically now rivals, though the MSBY Black Jackals are definitely superior in Akaashi’s very much unbiased opinion.</p><p>“Akaashi!!” Komi crows, throwing himself against Akaashi’s side and making him stumble. “We thought you were dead, always holed up in your apartment and slaving away on that magazine you work for.” </p><p>Akaashi blushes and glares at him defiantly, rubbing the spot where an elbow had collided none too gently with his ribs.</p><p>“I have deadlines and if I don’t meet them then a whole lot of other people end up inconvenienced,” he grumbles, sighing as Sarukui joins in the fray and throws his arm around Akaashi’s shoulders.</p><p>“Sure, sure. Figures our dear old Captain would be the one that finally gets you dug out of your cave,” the wing spiker turned civil servant teases, messing up Akaashi’s hair with a laugh. </p><p>“I see you’ve grown your hair out, Sarukui-kun,” Akaashi sighs, deciding to politely ignore the comment about Bokuto, who has now suckered Washio into a race around the gym to warm up. He’d doubled his medication dose this morning in the hopes that he can get through the day, but if he can avoid the very obvious trigger that is Bokuto and how disgustingly in love Akaashi is with him, then all the better.</p><p>“It’s good to see you again, Akaashi,” Konoha says pleasantly, and Akaashi is relieved that at least one of his former teammates has grown into a relatively polite adult. </p><p>“AKAASHI! I call dibs on Akaashi!” Bokuto screams, speaking of former teammates who did <i>not</i>. He’s apparently won the race as Washio comes chasing up on his heels, both of them already red faced and sweaty. </p><p>Had they been competing over who got him on their team? The thought makes him feel warm, though it’s dumb to fight over Akaashi when he’s probably gonna be the weakest link of the day. If anything they should be fighting over Konoha, who is the only other one who still actively plays the sport. </p><p>Clearly Washio agrees because he points at Konoha and gestures at him to join him, too busy gasping for breath to bother summoning him by name. Bokuto wisely chooses Komi to round out their trio and Sarukui joins Washio and Konoha in walking to the other side of the net. </p><p>Washio’s team has more experience between them, and an offensive advantage with two spikers, but Bokuto’s team is more balanced, having an accomplished, if out of practice setter and libero, and Akaashi is curious about whether they might actually pull this off.</p><p>It’s Bokuto’s serve first, and a thrill rushes up Akaashi’s spine at the first loud THWAP of Bokuto’s palm against the surface of the volleyball. Konoha manages to receive it and hits it to Washio, who has decided to be their impromptu setter so he can take advantage of having two spikers to choose from. </p><p>The set is clumsy though since Washio is a middle blocker, and Sarukui’s hit is an easy ball for Komi, who bumps it up into the air and straight for Akaashi. </p><p>Akaashi’s eyes flick from the approaching ball to Bokuto, who has already launched himself into the air with his eyes towards the sky, his expression filled with what Akaashi can describe only as pure, unfiltered joy. </p><p>And God does Akaashi love him. Inexorably. Utterly. Foolishly. </p><p>Instinct takes over and he serves the ball to Bokuto as naturally as he had back when they still played together in high school. Bokuto’s hand connects with the ball and sends it flying past Washio’s block to slam into the ground with a solid, resounding thud of finality.</p><p>Staring down at his hands, Akaashi can’t comprehend the complex emotions that are suddenly swirling around in his head. It’s the first time he’s touched a volleyball since graduating high school and it feels-</p><p>
  <i>Exhilirating.</i>
</p><p>It feels like coming home after a ten hour shift at work and slipping into bed after a hot bath.</p><p>Or like the first mouthful of freshly brewed tea on a cold winter day.</p><p>A sense of belonging that he hasn’t felt in such a very, very long time. </p><p>“AKAASHI!” Bokuto’s scream cuts through his muddled thoughts and he finds himself almost thrown to the ground in the wing spiker’s enthusiasm, arms wrapped tight around Akaashi keeping him mostly on his feet. Komi joins him in crushing Akaashi in a hug and they dance around him, much to his overwhelming embarrassment. </p><p>“It was just one point!” he hears Washio protesting confusedly, and he attempts to pry himself free of his two teammates, wanting to be stern despite the warm glow of happiness in the pit of his stomach. </p><p>“He’s right, we still have a whole game to play!” Akaashi lectures, finally extricating himself from their grabbing hands. </p><p>He loses track of how long they keep going like that. At some point they collect a small audience of intrigued bystanders who have come to use other parts of the gym for their own exercise and got sucked into the intense game happening on the court in the corner. </p><p>Neither team is willing to give in, and as Akaashi curves back and gives another perfect set to Bokuto leaping behind him, he wonders if any of them have even been keeping track of the score. </p><p>They finally take a break when the less athletic Akaashi and Sarukui literally beg for relief, knees shaking and faces drenched with sweat. Akaashi knows he’s gonna be suffering this afternoon for <i>days</i>, but it just feels worth it to get to play with Bokuto again. </p><p>Washio clearly agrees because he’s slinging his arm around Akaashi, rocking him back and forth as they walk off the court towards the row of chairs set up against the wall of the gymnasium. </p><p>“Akaashi!! You still set so well, what the hell? Bokuto said you told him you haven’t played since high school!” he complains, shoving Akaashi and laughing as he stumbles into Konoha. Akaashi glares back at the middle blocker and flips him the bird, infuriated when that only makes Washio laugh harder. </p><p>“I haven’t played since high school, and I’m woefully out of shape, but I’m pretty sure we still just kicked your butts anyways,” he sniffs, sneering at the trio of protests that rises out of Washio and his two teammates. </p><p>“It’s because Akaashi’s sets are meant for me,” Bokuto says primly, coming up behind Akaashi and throwing his arms around his neck, glaring at Washio over Akaashi’s sweaty black curls. “He’s <i>my</i> setter and I’m always gonna play my best when he’s the one tossing the balls to me.”</p><p>Akaashi covers his mouth in an attempt to stifle his smile, hiding it with a small cough.</p><p>“I’m average at best, Bokuto-san, but I appreciate the sentiment. I’m sure Miya-san won’t be pleased if he finds out you’ve been complimenting another setter though,” he responds blandly, much to the uproarious entertainment of the other four men. Bokuto splutters indignantly and Akaashi takes his chance to extricate himself from his grasp, sinking down into a chair and heaving a sigh of relief. </p><p>He’s glad he isn’t a spiker at least because his wobbly legs would have given out an hour ago. </p><p>They end up sharing some sandwiches that Konoha’s girlfriend had sent along with him for lunch, sitting cross legged in a circle on the floor of the public gym. Komi tells them stories about the famous tv drama actor he met last week, and then Bokuto and Washio tell them what it’s like being in Division 1. Konoha talks about his new girlfriend, waving his hands excitedly when they all ooh and aah over the photo he shows them of her. </p><p>Sarukui is quiet though, and surprisingly enough it’s Bokuto that picks up on it first, elbowing the brunette in the side to get his attention. </p><p>“What’s up, Yamato?” he wheedles, trying to nudge him into saying what’s apparently been eating him up all afternoon. </p><p>“I, um. I’ve been wanting to tell someone about this for a while now, and I’ve kinda just been terrified to do so for the last.. Well forever I guess,” Sarukui mumbles, and he’s clutching his cell phone so tight in his lap that his fingers have gone white from the pressure. He looks absolutely terrified and his gaze keeps flitting between their faces as if trying to simultaneously gauge their reactions. </p><p>Akaashi has an inkling of where this might be going and waits patiently, putting a hand on top of Bokuto’s to stop him before the wing spiker tries to push Sarukui into speaking again. </p><p>“I’m-”</p><p>Sarukui stops again, clearly frustrated with himself. </p><p>“I’m!” </p><p>The dark haired man clams up and ducks his head, mouth screwed up miserably. He clearly doesn’t know where to begin and boy does Akaashi understand how that feels.</p><p>He cocks his head, then sighs gently, offering Sarukui a small, encouraging smile. </p><p>“What’s his name, Yamato-kun?” </p><p>Sarukui looks stunned for a moment and then he dissolves into relieved tears, throwing himself across the circle to wrap himself around Akaashi. </p><p>“His name is Fukuro Yamamori and I love him very much!” he warbles miserably, and Akaashi pats his back soothingly, knowing how hard it is to have this conversation as a man living in a conservative, traditional country like Japan. In fact, he knows better than most the risks and potential costs of trying to be yourself in this world.</p><p>The other four men are staring at the pair of them, completely taken off guard by the sudden revelation, before they all explode with cheers and whoops. </p><p>“Sarukui you sly dog! You didn’t tell me you were seeing anyone!” Komi protests, slapping his hand on Sarukui’s shoulder.</p><p>“You’ll have to let us meet this Fukuro Yamamori sometime soon,” Konoha huffs loudly, crossing his arms and staring sternly at Sarukui when the brunette finally withdraws from the safety of Akaashi’s now damp t-shirt. </p><p>“Aki-kun?” he asks, clearly nervous about Konoha’s tone. Akaashi gives Konoha a look that could curdle milk, which apparently makes him reconsider how he’d sounded just now. </p><p>“I just mean that we gotta make sure he’s gonna treat you right, y’know? Can’t let one of my best and oldest friends date some shitty waste of space,” he grumbles, clearly embarrassed to be the center of attention. Sarukui’s eyes fill with tears again and he’s throwing himself at Konoha and Komi, knocking them back into a pile of flailing limbs with a wretched wail of happiness. </p><p>Washio hasn’t said anything but Akaashi can tell by the grin on his face that he’s pleased with this development. </p><p>Bokuto however looks pensieve, focusing hard on his hands with his brows scrunched together thoughtfully. Akaashi isn’t sure how to parse this sudden mood and decides to leave him be for the moment to figure out whatever it is he’s thinking about with such intensity. </p><p>Once Sarukui has calmed down enough to form proper sentences again, he tells them all about the boyfriend he’s apparently been seeing for the last year and a half. He met Fukuro on the job and at first they started off as roommates out of convenience, commuting to and from work together and enjoying the camaraderie of their shared experience. He explains how they just kind of naturally drifted together and started spending their time out of work together as well, going to the movies and out with friends to dinner or the bar.</p><p>“And then one day as we’re sitting on the couch together, basically cuddling while watching some kind of cop drama on tv, he asks me if we’re dating. And like? What was I supposed to say at that point because we basically were. We were doing everything together except, uh. The physical stuff that comes with a relationship, so why not just… have the whole package?” </p><p>Sarukui’s expression is fond and Akaashi can’t help but smile at him, forcibly ejecting thoughts of Bokuto’s hand in his own on their not date to Disneyland two days ago from his mind. His situation is <i>not</i> the same as Sarukui’s and he’d be an idiot to even think otherwise.</p><p>“We’re happy for you, Sarukui. I’m glad you found someone that makes you feel this way,” he murmurs, resting his chin on his knee as he hugs his leg up against his chest. </p><p>The other man blinks at him for a moment, and Akaashi can see the question he wants to ask in his curious expression. </p><p>“You wanna know how I knew.”</p><p>All eyes slide to Akaashi in that moment, and he’s acutely aware of Bokuto sitting next to him, so close that they’re almost touching. Sarukui nods, biting his lip. Akaashi supposes he should be nervous about telling them the truth but all he feels is a deep, still calm. Compared to everything else he’s been through in his life this just seems… surprisingly easy.</p><p>“I came out to my parents in my third year of high school. So I guess I just recognized what that kind of confession looks like,” he admits with a shrug, as if he hasn’t just dropped a massive bomb on the laps of people he hasn’t seen in years. It’s weirdly satisfying to say it out loud though. He’s never really had to come out like this to any of his friends.</p><p>“They kicked me out of the house that night and I haven’t seen any of my family ever since.” </p><p>Of course he’d also told them about Bokuto being the cause of his illness, but he keeps that part to himself. </p><p>“‘Kaashi, why didn’t you tell me?” Bokuto asks, sounding absolutely miserable. Akaashi chances a glance at him and is surprised to see how sincerely sorry he looks, his yellow eyes wide and watery. He grins wryly, thinking back to a long ago practice game with Nekoma and the acrid taste of dirt and blood on his tongue. </p><p>“I tried to, but you said you were busy with practice. I didn’t want to be the reason you didn’t make the starting lineup, so I decided to keep it to myself,” he answers plainly. It lands with devastating accuracy and Bokuto’s face crumples before his eyes. </p><p>Akaashi looks away and back towards the rest of his former teammates, smiling reassuringly at them despite their matching looks of horror and upset.</p><p>“I was okay, really. You had all graduated and were off living your lives. I ended up staying with Kuroo-san, Nekoma’s old Captain, for the last few months until high school ended and I could move into the college dorms. It was honestly the best thing for me, anyways. My parents were talking about arranged marriages before I left and, well. That wouldn’t have ended great.” </p><p>Sarukui’s crying again and Akaashi chuckles, waving his hand absently at the distraught group. </p><p>“I promise, I got through it. And now I’m the mostly functional adult you see before you today.”</p><p>That gets a laugh out of them, albeit a wet one, and the conversation moves onto the next topic of discussion. </p><p>Bokuto is quiet for the rest of the afternoon, however. Even as they’re cleaning up the volleyball court and returning the equipment to the storage closet, he remains silent and lost in thought, almost running Komi over with the volleyball basket. </p><p>Akaashi hugs each of their friends goodbye and promises, this time more sincerely, that he’ll keep in touch. He even makes actual plans to meet Sarukui and his boyfriend for lunch next week.</p><p>Eventually though he’s left alone again with Bokuto, who still hasn’t said a word since Akaashi’s confession during lunch. </p><p>“Do you want to take the train back or walk?” Akaashi asks, knocking his hand in an attempt to get his attention. Bokuto just stares at him blankly, clearly having not heard the question. </p><p>Akaashi decides they’ll walk since the weather is actually comfortable. The sun is low in the sky and it bathes the city in orange and yellow hues, lighting their path with soft light as they make their way slowly through the streets. After the second time Bokuto almost walks into traffic, Akaashi finally takes his hand so he can guide him, trying to ignore the way their fingers lace so perfectly together. </p><p>He stumbles when Bokuto suddenly comes to a harsh stop, jerking their connected hands uncomfortably behind his back. Akaashi turns around to ask him what the problem is, then stops when he sees the look on Bokuto’s face. </p><p>“Bokut-”</p><p>“I’M SORRY!”</p><p>His apology is so loud that it startles a nearby flock of birds off the power line they’d been perching on, and it leaves Akaashi stunned speechless. Bokuto blushes, apparently realizing that he’s essentially just screamed in Akaashi’s face. </p><p>“I’m… I’m sorry, ‘Kaashi. For everything,” Bokuto tries again, much softer this time.</p><p>Akaashi’s heart skips a beat. </p><p>“I don’t understand, Bokuto-san,” he replies carefully, wincing when Bokuto’s hand tightens painfully around his own. “You have nothing to apologize for.” </p><p>Bokuto gawks at him for a moment, taken aback, but then his expression morphs into something more akin to raw fury. Akaashi tries not to remember the Bokuto of his nightmare.</p><p>“Nothing to-!” Bokuto sputters and smacks his hand against his own face.</p><p>“Akaashi, you got disowned by your entire family and I should have been the one that was there for you! I should have picked up the stupid phone, or tried harder to answer your texts. I should have never said something so mean to you! I should have told you that you could never be a distraction to me or hold me back ever. I should have been on the first plane back to Tokyo so that I could be there for you when you needed me the most, and instead I was… I was playing stupid fucking volleyball!” </p><p>Bokuto is out of breath and Akaashi stares at him slack jawed, not sure how to respond to that. He’s never heard Bokuto so much as make a negative joke about volleyball, nevermind call it stupid. And the reason he’s so angry is… because of him?</p><p>“And when you got busy with college and you couldn’t support me for my games like you used to, instead of trying to support <i>you</i> for a change I just sulked like a baby. I stopped texting and calling like I used to and convinced myself it was what you wanted because I was being selfish with your attention. I’ve always been selfish with your attention and you need to stop letting me treat you like this, because you deserve so much better, Keiji.”</p><p>Akaashi swallows around the lump in his throat that’s only partially made of flowers, willing his voice to be steady when he tries to speak. Bokuto is looking at him with such sincerity that it hurts. </p><p>“I don’t mind it,” he whispers, lower lip trembling ever so slightly as he speaks. “Honestly I wish you would be <i>more</i> selfish with my attention. It makes me happy when you call, even if we’re both busy and can only talk for a few minutes.”</p><p>Looking down, Akaashi gives Bokuto’s hand a careful squeeze. </p><p>“I just want to be a part of your life, Koutarou. However you’ll have me.”</p><p>They’re so close now and Akaashi can feel Bokuto’s breath on his skin, warm and soft. All he has to do is tip his head up just a little bit more…</p><p>Pain explodes in Akaashi’s body as the bicycle collides with his side, crying out as he’s thrown sideways and lands with a hard crunch on the cement sidewalk. He hears something crack and the resulting agony causes his vision to go grey around the edges.</p><p>Bokuto is yelling his name somewhere off in the distance and there’s a panicked older man hovering above him asking if he’s okay. Akaashi groans, wincing as his bruised ribs throb angrily with the motion. God, his doctor is gonna be so pissed at him. </p><p>The ambulance ride is a bit of a blur, if he’s being honest. The EMT tells him he might have a concussion while he wraps a bandage around Akaashi’s broken wrist to keep the swelling down until a doctor can look at it. Careful fingers probe at his sides and say he’s lucky that he doesn’t have any fractured ribs at least, or any major injuries other than his wrist.</p><p>The cyclist had been going fast around the bend and hadn’t seen him and Bokuto standing there in the fading evening light until it was too late to swerve away. He’d hit Akaashi hard and collected a wide array of bruises and road rash for himself, but was otherwise completely unscathed. Bokuto meanwhile had managed to avoid injury entirely by some miracle, other than a slightly sore shoulder where he’d wrenched it trying to catch Akaashi before he hit the pavement. </p><p>“I’m glad,” he sighs, much to the confusion of the EMT splinting his wrist. Bokuto has practice and upcoming games. An injury like Akaashi’s would bench a wing spiker for months, but Akaashi will be fine. He’s right handed, anyways. </p><p>They don’t get home from the hospital until late and Akaashi has strict instructions to take it easy tomorrow and a bottle full of little white pain pills that he probably can’t take since most pain medications interact poorly with his other med. One of the nurses teases him that Bokuto had nearly paced a hole through the floor of the waiting room when he wasn’t allowed to come in with Akashi, and Akaashi is too fuzzy from the pain to do more than blush and mumble. </p><p>“At least you don’t have a concussion,” Bokuto sighs, guiding Akaashi from the cab and up the stairs to his apartment. Akaashi agrees, though the heavy cast on his wrist isn’t much of a consolation prize. Still, at least he can sleep without interruption.</p><p>“I’m probably gonna sleep in late,” he admits, allowing himself to be led through his own apartment towards his bedroom. “But Kuroo-san wants to meet up tomorrow night at some sports bar near here with Kenma-kun. He said Oikawa and Iwaizumi will be there too.”</p><p>He can tell Bokuto wants to protest and shakes him off to sit down on the edge of his bed, cradling his aching arm against his chest. </p><p>“No arguments. They want to see you before you fly home, and I promised Kuroo that we’d both be there. I’ll be fine for a few hours.”</p><p>Bokuto pouts at him but doesn’t try to fight him this time, instead kneeling down beside the bed to help Akaashi with his shoes and socks.</p><p>“Okay, Akaashi. We’ll be there with bells on, but <i>only</i> if you spend most of the day resting,” he says firmly, and Akaashi supposes that’s a fair trade. </p><p>“Fine,” he sighs, lying his bruised and aching body back slowly into his soft and forgiving bed. He hasn’t forgotten how close they came to kissing just before the accident, and Akaashi wonders if the universe is trying to send him a sign with all these interruptions and inconveniences. Clearly someone out there doesn’t want him confessing to Bokuto anytime soon. </p><p>“Fine,” Bokuto agrees, rummaging through Akaashi’s bureau and presenting him with a clean pair of pajamas. “Then it’s a date, Keiji.” </p><p>The door has long since closed behind him when Akaashi processes what he’s just said.</p>
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</div>The majority of Bokuto’s final day in Tokyo goes by with a whimper for the most part. Akaashi is good to his word and sleeps in until long after the sun has risen in the sky. He takes a very careful shower with his cast wrapped up in some plastic bags to keep it dry, and then crawls onto the couch for another nap.<p>At some point Bokuto joins him and Akaashi allows himself to be manhandled until his head is pillowed on Bokuto’s stomach, the man himself reclined on the couch to watch some television while Akaashi dozes. It’s surprisingly comfortable, and he lets himself drift as a gentle hand pets through his still damp hair. </p><p>Bokuto must have brought food with him because he periodically offers Akaashi bits of fruit and rice throughout the afternoon, pressing it to his lips until he opens his mouth. He’s too sore and tired to protest, and to be honest it’s nice to be taken care of. The whole thing feels utterly domestic, and Akaashi wonders briefly if this is what it would be like if he just found the courage to tell Bokuto the truth.</p><p><i>Bokuto is free with his affections. He loves his friends. This doesn’t mean anything and you aren’t special.</i> </p><p>Or, by confessing, he could lose all of this forever.</p><p>Akaashi closes his eyes and lets the gentle hand and soft murmur of the nature documentary Bokuto is watching lull him into a stupor. At least when he’s asleep he doesn’t have to think about the things that hurt him more than his broken wrist. </p><p>He thinks he hears Bokuto saying something to him, but he’s too far gone to really make out any of the words. A small hum escapes him and he turns his face down to bury it in Bokuto’s t-shirt, wrapping his uninjured arm around a thick thigh like it’s his own personal teddy bear. </p><p>If he were more self aware in that moment he might have been more embarrassed by his clinginess. Right now though all he can think about is how comfortable he is. </p><p>Bokuto’s palm is broad and heavy in his hair, fingers calloused from years of volleyball combing carefully through black curls. </p><p>What if they just stay like this forever? Akaashi can quit his job at the magazine and commit to his new full time task of sleeping on Bokuto’s lap. That sounds like a life well worth living in his expert opinion. </p><p>So of course when it comes time to start getting ready to meet Kuroo, it is with only the utmost of complaining that he even lifts his head, nevermind actually <i>standing</i> and <i>walking around</i>.</p><p>“You’re the one that insisted we go out,” Bokuto reminds him, and Akaashi punches him halfheartedly in the side with a grimace, shuffling down the hall with the maximum amount of reluctance he’s currently capable of expressing.</p><p>It turns out that getting dressed in something other than sweatpants is actually a lot harder with one hand than he previously assumed, and he’s still fumbling with the button on his jeans when Bokuto is knocking at his door, asking if he needs any help. </p><p>“I’m fine, Bokuto-san!” he snaps irritably, flopping back on his bed so he finally has just enough slack to thumb his pants closed, tugging up the zipper with a triumphant scoff. That being said though the button up shirt presents much more of an issue. </p><p>At first it had made sense to him, picking something he didn’t have to try sliding up and over his head. His broken wrist is making his entire arm heavy and tired, and lifting it to pull on a t-shirt is definitely out of the question. </p><p>These buttons, though. They vex him. </p><p>He compromises by only buttoning as far as absolutely necessary to not feel completely exposed, leaving the top and bottom two buttons loose. If he gets cold later then he’ll just have to cross that bridge when he comes to it, but for now he’s about as ready as one can ever be when preparing to enter a bar with Kuroo Tetsurou <i>and</i> Oikawa Tooru. </p><p>Oikawa had been forced to quit volleyball last year due to his old knee injury and had returned to Tokyo from Argentina with a broken heart and an enormous chip on his shoulder. He’d actually stayed with Akaashi for a while, which had always been somewhat of a shock to both of them. He and the other setter had struck up a very unlikely friendship in Akaashi’s second year, when he’d found Oikawa crying in the bathroom after one of their practice games with Fukurodani. In a moment of vulnerability, Oikawa confessed to him that he was in love with his best friend, and wow was that something Akaashi could relate to very well.</p><p>So when Oikawa calls him out of the blue and begs him to let him crash for a while, just until he figures out what to do, Akaashi feels obligated to agree. He certainly can’t leave Oikawa to just be homeless when he can do something about it. He knows how hopeless that feels and won’t do that to another person, not even if that person is Oikawa Tooru. </p><p>Oikawa says he can’t tell Iwaizumi yet, not when he’d made such a big deal about going off to Argentina and being a big star, and he doesn’t want to be a burden to his parents either. </p><p>Akaashi guesses the real issue may be Oikawa’s assumption that Iwaizumi holds a grudge for putting volleyball ahead of whatever relationship they may or may not have, but it hadn’t been his place to say. So he’d opened his home to his miserable friend and Oikawa haunted his apartment for four whole months. He hadn’t been a spectacular roommate persay and helped himself to Akaashi’s food whenever he pleased, but he had at least kept his apartment clean and tidy while he was too busy struggling to climb the ranks at the publishing firm.</p><p>At some point during that time they end up sleeping together. Akaashi came home late from work for the fourth night in a row and had been twisted up inside misery, partly due to the strain of his new job and mostly due to the string of selfies Bokuto had posted of him and Miya Atsumu cuddled together on the couch earlier that day. Oikawa had met him in the doorway with tears in his eyes to match Akaashi’s; Iwaizumi had apparently gone on a date with one of his coworkers and couldn’t wait to tell Oikawa all about her. Sad and lonely and both pining for someone they couldn’t have, they kind of just fell together naturally.</p><p>The morning after that first time had been one of the most awkward Akaashi has ever lived through.</p><p>But then it happened again. And again. Akaashi still has no complaints if he’s being honest; for all of Oikawa Tooru’s many, many personal flaws, he was still <i>very</i> good with his hands.</p><p>He might have stayed with Akaashi longer if Iwaizumi hadn’t finally found out that he was back in town and showed up on his doorstep, red faced and panting as if he’d run all the way there. It wasn’t long after that Oikawa had moved in with his new boyfriend, once again leaving Akaashi alone.</p><p>Kuroo insists that he’s mellowed out since then, humbled by his forced early retirement and softened by finally consummating a literal lifetime of angst and sexual tension with Iwaizumi. Last Akaashi had heard, Oikawa now has a job as a coach for an elementary school volleyball club, a career Akaashi thinks he’s oddly well suited for. </p><p>Still, as he slides into the booth and settles in across from a smirking Oikawa, Akaashi can’t help but feel preemptively annoyed. It’s a common reaction when being faced with that perpetually smug face.</p><p>“Keiji-chaaaaaan, I’ve missed youuuu! You blow me off all month and then you show up tonight with your shirt all unbuttoned and untucked, you miserable tease!” the other former setter whines from his place tucked up under Iwaizumi’s arm, gasping dramatically when Akaashi rests his casted arm on top of the table. “Keji, what <i>happened!</i>”</p><p>Akaashi groans and buries his face in his uninjured hand, wondering if it’s too late to change his mind and leave, but then Bokuto is sliding in beside him and trapping him in, so that’s that. </p><p>“We were walking back to my apartment yesterday and someone plowed into me with their bike. It was a freak accident and I don’t wanna talk about it,” he sighs, sending Kuroo a pointed stare that says ‘See?’</p><p>“And my shirt isn’t buttoned all the way up only because it’s kinda hard to do that one handed and for absolutely no other reason, you nasty.”</p><p>He expects Oikawa to whine some more, or complain that his story is boring and that he should try to make it more exciting for the next time he tells it. Instead the brunette blinks at him and shrugs.</p><p>“Okay, Keiji. I hope you’re feeling better soon. Text me if you need Iwa-chan or I to come over and help you with anything while you’re recovering,” is what Oikawa says instead, turning his attention down to look over the drink menu in front of him. </p><p>Akaashi doesn’t have to make eye contact with Kuroo to know that the other man is feeling all kinds of smug right now, and, fine. Whatever. He was wrong, maybe. </p><p>“You should tell people you broke it doing something more interesting though, like wrestling a bear or rescuing an idol from getting run over by a car.”</p><p>There it is. Now the world makes just a little bit more sense again. </p><p>“Why would I be wrestling a bear in the middle of the city,” Akaashi snorts, shaking his head as he looks down at his own drink menu. He isn’t supposed to drink a lot with the medication he’s on, but he supposes a couple drinks won’t hurt him any more than everything else has this week. Besides, it’s not like he gets to see his friends every day, and it’s Bokuto’s last night in Tokyo. </p><p>He ignores the way his heart squeezes at that thought. At the start of the week, Akaashi had been consumed with plans on how to just survive until Bokuto finally left again.</p><p>Now that the time is almost here, he desperately does not want him to leave. </p><p>How funny is that. </p><p>Akaashi is still sore and tired from yesterday, and it’s easy to just sit there and listen as his friends talk to one another about their lives. The alcohol flows steadily, and while Akaashi joins Kenma and switches over to cola after the third beer the rest of them continue to drink with enthusiasm, getting louder and more energetic with each successive round. </p><p>This is nice, he thinks. Spending time with his friends is nice, even if Kuroo and Bokuto do most of the talking for him and Kenma. Even if Oikawa is being annoying and Iwaizumi is failing to keep his increasingly drunk boyfriend in line, this is nice. </p><p>When had Akaashi convinced himself he was better off alone, and why had he stuck with that belief for all these long, lonely years since graduating high school? Sure he’d gone out for the occasional coffee here, the odd dinner there, when invited. He dutifully answered text messages and, for the most part, doesn’t ignore <i>all</i> the phone calls he gets. </p><p>But it’s not the same as just… being out with his friends for the sake of seeing them, and not because he’s trying to fulfill some kind of social obligation to leave his house at least once a month or so. </p><p>“We actually have an announcement to make, and we wanted you all to be the first to hear it before we posted anything online,” Oikawa croons, and Akaashi’s eyes grow wide when pulls out a chain from beneath his shirt with a single, shiny gold band looped onto it. He switches to looking at Iwaizumi and catches a glimpse of a matching chain around his neck as well. </p><p>“Are you?” he asks dumbly, and Oikawa grins, face flush with alcohol and the sheer, overwhelming joy of the moment. </p><p>“We are, and you’re all invited!” he cries, attempting to throw himself across the table at Akaashi for a hug, only to be pulled back down into his seat by a slightly more sober Iwaizumi.</p><p>“Of course we can’t legally get married in Japan, but Tooru still has Argentinian citizenship, so we’re gonna fly there to get married and then come back and have a ceremony here in Japan for our friends and family,” Iwaizumi clarifies, settling his hand on Oikawa’s knee under the table.</p><p>“That’s so awesome, dude!” Bokuto crows, offering him a fist bump that is resoundly denied and settling for high fiving Oikawa instead. </p><p>Akaashi smiles across the table at his friend while the rest of them start punking on Iwaizumi for making an honest man out of the Demon King Oikawa, reaching over to lace his fingers with the brunette’s.</p><p>Congratulations, Tooru,” he murmurs, expression fond. “You deserve to be happy, and I’m glad to see that Iwaizumi makes you happy.” Oikawa grins back at him, squeezing Akaashi’s hand in his own. </p><p>“You know you deserve to be happy too,” he sighs, and his gaze flicks to Bokuto beside him, who is currently in a race with Kuroo to see who can finish their beer the fastest. </p><p>Akaashi’s smile turns a little wry and he shrugs, slowly withdrawing his arm back to the safety of his lap again.</p><p>“Maybe someday.”</p><p>He excuses himself to the bathroom so he can wash his face and take his evening pill, taking the opportunity to catch his breath after such a heavy moment. Oikawa is one of only three people in his life that know about his feelings for Bokuto, and it’s hard hearing him say that Akaashi deserves to be happy. </p><p>Kuroo has said so often enough as well. </p><p>The strange thing is, as Akaashi studies his tired reflection and considers the last several amazing, impossible days he’s spent with Bokuto, he thinks he may actually be starting to believe them. </p><p>Maybe tonight will be the night he’s finally honest with Bokuto about his feelings. He’ll hold his hand as they walk home and this time there won’t be any waiters, theme park malfunctions, or stray cyclists to get in his way. It’ll just be him and Bokuto and six years of Akaashi’s life spent loving him with every fiber of his being.</p><p>“No kidding though, you should <i>see</i> his collection. It’s insane! It would put any other volleyball otaku to shame,” Oikawa is squealing when Akaashi finally gets back, and the way all eyes turn to him immediately sets his teeth on edge. </p><p>“Akaashi, tell them about the Bokuto shrine in your closet! No one believes me and it’s not fair,” Oikawa whines, throwing himself across Iwaizumi to try and grab at the front of his shirt. Akaashi goes cold, breath catching in his throat as all the comfortable confidence from just moments before immediately drains from his body. </p><p>“Tooru,” Iwaizumi starts, his tone full of warning, but Oikawa is too drunk on alcohol and his wedding announcement to hear him when he’s in full swing like this. </p><p>“I saw it when I was staying with him and paying my way by keeping the place clean! Just boxes full of MSBY stuff, all stuffed at the back like a dirty little secret. And of course you must have seen the cute little jersey he wears when he sleeps, Kou-chaaaaan!”</p><p>Bokuto is staring at Akaashi with wide eyes, his knuckles white as he grips the table in front of him.</p><p>“Is that true, Akaashi? You collect my merch?”</p><p>Kuroo coughs and tries to distract the two men putting Akaashi on the spotlight by offering to buy another round, but it’s too late. Things have already been set in motion that cannot be changed.</p><p>“I-”</p><p>“Of course he does! He says it’s because he wants to support your career, but that really doesn’t explain all the fanmade things I saw, does it,” Oikawa teases, and Akaashi feels like throwing up. The beer and cola roil uncomfortably in his stomach and the flowers in his lungs threaten to make themselves known to everyone in this bar. </p><p>“It is a little creepy though, don’t you agree, Kou-chan?”</p><p>“Tooru!” Iwaizumi finally slaps his hand over Oikawa’s mouth to force him to shut up, but the damage is already done. </p><p>Akaashi only has to take one look at Bokuto’s open mouthed face to know it’s over and so he does the only thing that makes any sense to him: he flees. </p><p>He runs out of the bar and as far down the road as he can physically get before he has to stop, unable to hold back the Hanahaki any more. Beer mixed with blood and Aster flowers splashes onto the flower beds beside the road, and Akaashi heaves and coughs and chokes and vomits until he has nothing else left to give. </p><p>“Akaashi!”</p><p>Kuroo is there, wild eyed and panting after running to catch up to him. He’s thankfully alone, and Akaashi almost collapses when he approaches, uninjured hand braced on his knee in a desperate bid to keep himself upright.</p><p>“Leave me the fuck alone, Kuroo,” he spits, mouth foul with the taste of blood and bile. “Go back to the bar and have fun with your friends.”</p><p>The dark haired man sighs, raising his hands defensively as if Akaashi is a wounded animal about to strike. </p><p>“They’re your friends too. You know how Shittykawa gets when he’s been drinking. Hajime has already ripped him a new one for what he just did, and he wants you to know that they’re both so sorry. If it helps, I yelled at Bokuto too, for being a moron and just sitting there instead of speaking up for you. I told him he’s in a time out with Oikawa so he wouldn’t come after you, but Akaashi. He really, <i>really</i> wanted to. I think he cares about you more than you realize.”</p><p>Akaashi sneers, straightening his aching back and turning away from Kuroo.</p><p>“I don’t care. It’s fine. They were right, anyways. It’s fucking creepy, and I should have outgrown this years ago when I knew I didn’t have a chance. But I’m an idiot and I kept going anyway even when all the signs were there to turn back before I plunge off the edge of a cliff.” His voice is bitter and hoarse, raw from the flowers and heavy with sadness. </p><p>“I’m going home and going to bed. Tell Bokuto I’ll leave the front door unlocked for him so he can get in whenever he’s done here.”</p><p>Kuroo groans, pressing his hands against his face as if he can’t believe what he’s seeing. </p><p>“Why are you so stubborn? Just tell him how you feel! You’ve been in love with him for, what? Six years now? Don’t you think Bokuto deserves to know when him not knowing is literally killing you?” he protests, waving his arm at Akaashi. </p><p>And Akaashi shrugs, taking a step forward and away from his friend. He feels pleasantly numb again. The way he’d always felt before this week and Bokuto’s sudden return to his life. </p><p>Numb has always been safe.</p><p>“Have a good night, Kuroo-san,” he replies and starts the walk back to his apartment. Kuroo yells his name again but Akaashi ignores him this time, staring at the road in front of him. Each step feels heavier than the last, and he’s relieved that Bokuto isn’t there waiting for him when he finally gets back to his apartment. He’d been briefly worried that the other man might try to take a cab to beat him home. </p><p>He throws his blood stained clothing in the washing machine and snags a clean pair of pajamas from the dryer to put on before finally heading to the safety of his bedroom, locking the door behind him for the first time all week. Just in time, too, because he hears a car pull up in front of his apartment and the pounding of feet up the side stairwell that can only belong to Bokuto. </p><p>His guess is proven correct when his apartment door opens and then shuts again, and heavy footsteps make their way down his hallway.</p><p>“Akaashi?”</p><p>He doesn’t respond, sinking down until he’s sitting on the floor with his back against the door. Bokuto’s knock is careful and quiet, and Akaashi buries his face in his knees to hide from it.</p><p>“Akaashi, please open the door. I’m so sorry for how I acted earlier.”</p><p>Silence again, and Akaashi hears Bokuto sit heavily against his door. They’re only separated by an inch of wood and yet Akaashi feels like they’ve never been further apart from one another. </p><p>“I was… I was just so surprised to hear that you collect my stuff, you know? I didn’t expect that and I… Well it made me really happy I guess,” Bokuto admits, and Akaashi peeks up from the safety of his knees. Why would Bokuto be happy that Akaashi is a stalker freak?</p><p>“He said that you were always watching the MSBY games when he was living with you too, and I can’t describe how good that made me feel, Keiji. I like knowing that you’re watching me play, even if you can’t be there.” </p><p>Akaashi is going to murder Oikawa the next time he sees him, Iwaizumi be damned. </p><p>“Anyways, I just wanted to tell you that I’m sorry. And I don’t think you’re creepy. Neither does Oikawa either, by the way. You know how he gets when he’s been drinking and he was practically inconsolable when I left them. He feels awful for outing you that way, and for saying the stuff he said,” Bokuto sighs, and Akaashi wants to cry when he hears him standing back up on the other side of the door. </p><p>“I’ll leave you alone now, but I’ll be next door if you need me. My train leaves at 10 tomorrow morning, and I’d love to get to see you one more time before I go so I can apologize to you properly.”</p><p>Akaashi launches to his feet and turns around, stalling when his hand is almost to the doorknob. He wants to see Bokuto so badly it hurts. </p><p>Instead of unlocking the door, Akaashi leans forward against it and presses his forehead to the smooth wood, planting his uninjured palm against it as if he can just reach through it and touch the other man.</p><p>“Good night, Bokuto-san,” he finally murmurs, only after he hears the quiet snick of the spare bedroom door closing behind Bokuto. </p><p>When he wakes the next morning, Bokuto is already gone.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Listen Akaashi wearing Bokuto's jersey and being a giant MSBY #12 fanboy lives rent free in my mind. I hope y'all felt the secondhand embarrassment as much as I did writing it. </p><p>This chapter was a ride from start to finish, and many parts were written and rewritten multiple times. Please let me know your thoughts about it. :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. In Full Bloom</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>"Sorry about the blood in your mouth. I wish it was mine."</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Picks up right after the end of chapter 1, but now we get a little perspective from Bokuto on this mess.</p><p>Chapter summary quote taken from "Crush", by Richard Siken.</p><p>As always please be mindful of the warnings in the tags.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Bokuto fucked up.</p><p>He fucked up big time. </p><p>And worst of all he has no idea how to fix it and it’s eating him up inside. He’d gotten all the way to the train station before realizing how much he desperately wanted to stay. He wants to see Akaashi again, and the idea of leaving him behind after what has happened between them is all he can think about. </p><p>Again. Leaving him behind <i>again</i>. </p><p>He entertains fantasies of showing up at Akaashi’s doorstep with a bouquet of flowers and about a lifetime’s worth of love declarations and promises to be better if Akaashi will have him.</p><p>Instead he checks into a mediocre hotel near Akaashi’s apartment and sulks.</p><p>He stares up at the ceiling of his hotel room, begging the ugly popcorn ceiling to tell him <i>anything</i> even slightly useful for solving his predicament.</p><p>The ceiling is silent, but in a way that makes Bokuto feel extremely judged. </p><p>“I deserve your contempt,” he tells the plain white paint.</p><p>The ceiling does not respond because it is an inanimate object and Bokuto it straight up losing his mind. </p><p>He almost touches that ceiling when his phone suddenly trills beside him though, breaking through his funk and setting him scrambling to find the device beneath a messy tangle of blankets. </p><p>It’s Akaashi, finally calling him back, accepting his apologies!</p><p>“AKAASHI!” he cries into the phone, tears springing to his eyes when-</p><p>“Uhh, no. It’s Atsumu again. Y’know, your <i>current</i> setter, friend, and very worried teammate?” </p><p>Bokuto slides off the bed and onto the thinly carpeted floor, bitterly mashing his face into several days worth of shoe trackings and food crumbs.</p><p>“What do you want, ‘Tsumu,” he sighs, and the sound is pathetic even to his own ears. He rubs his chest absently when it starts to ache.</p><p>“For you t’get on the next plane back to Osaka actually, now that y’ask,” Atsumu complains loudly, making Bokuto wince. “It’s been a week already, Bokkun. Meian is ready t’gut you like a fish, nevermind what Coach has planned for you!” </p><p>Bokuto groans, putting the phone on speaker so he can drop it next to his head and use his hands to hide his face. </p><p>“I know, I know. I just can’t- I can’t leave Tokyo until I know everything is okay between me and ‘Kaashi,” he grumbles, rolling onto his back to contemplate the ceiling again.</p><p>It is still very much not helpful.</p><p>“Have you even tried calling him, Bokuto-san?”</p><p>That’s Hinata’s voice and Bokuto flails for the phone, furiously hitting the buttons to switch it over from voice to video chat. It rings once before Atsumu answers and sure enough there Hinata is seated right beside Atsumu on what looks like Atsumu’s bed. </p><p>“Why am I on SPEAKER!” he screeches, scowling when Atsumu laughs at him. </p><p>“Because you’ve spent th’last several years ignorin’ my advice when it comes t’your pretty boy setter, so I thought some fresh eyes and ears might be helpful. For <i>me</i> that is, not for you. I fully expect you t’only hear only what you want t’hear, yet again, and I need someone around to witness it this time so you can’t blame me anymore when it all goes belly up.”</p><p>That is-</p><p>That’s fair.</p><p>“Yeah well I took your best idea this time about the Disneyland tickets and look how that turned out,” he whines petulantly, propping his phone up on the table beside the bed so he can fold his arms against his chest and stare disapprovingly at his two teammates. </p><p>“You didn’t answer my question,” Hinata reminds him, grimacing when Bokuto glares at him specifically. </p><p>“Oi, don’t get mad at my son just cause you can’t tell your best friend that you’re in love with him,” Atsumu gasps, throwing his arms around Hinata and crushing the smaller man protectively against his chest. “He makes an extremely valid point, too! Have you even called Akaashi since y’left him? Or tried to go see him?”</p><p>Bokuto looks away from the impromptu wrestling match happening on his screen and down at his lap, considering every line on his hands in excruciating detail. </p><p>“I…. have not,” he admits, clenching his fingers into fists. “I’ve been too afraid of what he might say.”</p><p>The wrestling pauses, and Atsumu extricates himself from Hinata to stare at Bokuto through the phone, lips pursed and brows furrowed with annoyance.</p><p>“Why would you have any reason to be afraid? Damn, Bokkun. You’ve been best friends since you were like 17 n’even more annoyin’ than you are now. I can’t imagine you c’n scare him off that easily by this point,” the blond says with an exaggerated eye roll.</p><p>Bokuto pouts at his two friends, scrubbing a hand awkwardly through his hair. </p><p>“You don’t understand. I spent all week making him miserable, and then topped it off by being a total dick at the bar. I’d deserve it if he hated me for the rest of time.”</p><p>Atsumu groans and buries his face in his hands, scrubbing them back and forth until his skin is red.</p><p>“I know m’gonna regret this, but walk us through what happened so I can tell you that you’re an idiot again,” he orders, pointing at him rather aggressively in Bokuto’s opinion.</p><p>“I mean. First real day there I spent with my parents,” he mumbles, twisting his fingers together in his lap. “I promised I’d be home for dinner but I overslept, so I texted and told him I’d be back for lunch the next day instead. On day one, I already broke a promise!”</p><p>Hinata nods, eyes wide and sincere as he stares at Bokuto through the screen.</p><p>“Yeah but it was just an accident? I’m sure Akaashi-san doesn’t hold that against you, especially if you kept that second promise,” he points out.</p><p>Bokuto flushes red at that and looks away, unable to meet their gaze as he remembers what happened when he got back the following morning. </p><p>“I, uh. I actually arrived even earlier than originally expected. I thought it would be a nice surprise, y’know? Getting to eat breakfast together before I told him about the Disneyland tickets. But then, uhm. He-”</p><p>Finding things to say has never been difficult for Bokuto before. Ask anyone who knows him and they’d say he’s actually <i>too</i> good at talking sometimes, but right now? He’s floundering. The image of Akaashi standing there, endless miles of pretty pale legs on display beneath Bokuto’s fucking jersey? </p><p>It’s too much for any mortal man to digest.</p><p>“He was wearing my uniform shirt. Y’know the ones they sell online for the fans? He was wearing my jersey and nothing else when he answered the door because he didn’t know it was me who was ringing the bell. And I believed him when he told me he was just doin’ laundry, but then Oikawa told me that Akaashi sleeps in that <i>all the time.</i>”</p><p>Atsumu and Hinata stare dumbly at him before Inunaki, MSBY’s libero and Bokuto’s teammate, suddenly throws himself into the frame between them.</p><p>“HE WEARS YOUR JERSEY TO SLEEP IN EVERY NIGHT AND YOU THINK HE HATES YOU?” he screeches, grabbing the phone from wherever Atsumu had rested it and shaking it back and forth.</p><p>“Are you an <i>ACTUAL</i> clown or do you just moonlight as one when you’re not playing volleyball, oh my god?”</p><p>Bokuto whines pitifully, not even mad that another person has now joined the fray because Inunaki is absolutely right. </p><p>“According to Kuroo’s lecture at the bar that last night, I may actually be the clown president,” he admits, slapping his palms against his cheeks until they sting. </p><p>“Tell us what happened next, then.” </p><p>Meian slides onto Atsumu’s bed behind the other three, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed against his broad chest.</p><p>Bokuto’s eyes go misty at seeing him and he warbles out a plaintive “Captain!” at his phone. </p><p>“Listen, if resolving all of this is what gets you back sooner then I’m game, okay. Just keep going,” the middle blocker says flatly, leaving no room for argument.</p><p>Leaning back on his hands, Bokuto considers the second full of his stay in Tokyo, mouth twisting into a smile despite himself.</p><p>“I took him to Disneyland. Atsumu’s idea, surprisingly. I said they were a gift from my Dad so Akaashi didn’t get suspicious or anything, and we went to the park. And he seemed to have a good time? He let me hold his hand the entire day, and he even took a picture with me in front of the castle!”  Bokuto sighs, remembering how good Akaashi’s body felt against his own.</p><p>They’d always fit together so well, but the way Akaashi felt pressed up along his chest was… indescribable.</p><p>“Yeah we all saw that picture,” Atsumu snorts, making a face. “And the caption on it, but continue. How did your quite clearly a date complete with hand holding and I’m sure staring longingly into one another’s eyes go?” </p><p>Bokuto shrugs at that.</p><p>“That’s the thing, it was going really well. Akaashi was happy and having fun, and we had a great time riding the rides and going to the shows. But then my dumb ass saw that scary mirror maze thing they have set up by the Haunted Mansion ride and thought it was a great idea to drag Akaashi over to it. I wanted to hold his hand some more, y’know? Maybe live out a dumb fantasy or two of him clinging to me for protection against the fake ghosts and all, whatever, I’m only human. And I was gonna tell him that I love him once we were done and had gotten back to the park area by the castle. But then the <i>stupid</i> lights had to go out and ruin everything!” </p><p>He still hates himself for letting go of Akaashi, even if it was an involuntary reaction to the sudden darkness. </p><p>“I thought he was still right behind me when I continued to go forward and didn’t realize he wasn’t until I heard the announcement that said to wait and couldn’t hear him nearby. And like, ‘Kaashi has never really been a huge fan of the dark. He’s proud and won’t ever admit it but I knew he had to be freaking out, so I turned back to try and find him and he was having a panic attack and it was all my fault, okay!” he cries, burying his face in his hands so he doesn’t have to see the looks of pity on any of their faces.</p><p>“He told me I abandoned him <i>again</i>. And he’s right though cause I did abandon him. I left him behind at the park, I left him behind after I graduated, I’ve left him behind every time he texted and I didn’t answer. I always abandon him when he needs me most, and I don’t deserve him, so maybe he’s better off without me.”</p><p>There’s silence from the other line and Bokuto wonders if his teammates now hate him as much as he hates himself.</p><p>“I mean, I don’t know much about your relationship. But shouldn’t you let Akaashi-san decide that for himself?” Oliver’s deep baritone interjects into the silence, and since when did MSBY’s resident giant join the conversation?</p><p>There are noises of agreement from the rest of the assembled team and Bokuto peeks out from between his fingers, yellow eyes big and watery.</p><p>“I… I guess you’re probably right,” he admits, dropping his hands back down onto his lap. </p><p>“But Akaashi, he… He needed me to be there. On Thursday we went to play volleyball with some old teammates from high school, and he told us about coming out to his parents in high school, and getting kicked out. He said that he moved in with Kuroo after, but Kuroo said Akaashi was on his own for almost a whole month before he found out. Apparently Akaashi had been living in the equipment room at school for a while, since he was the captain and had the keys and all. But he got caught and ended up on a freaking park bench for like three whole days until one of the Nekoma players saw him there and recognized Fukurodani’s setter and told Kenma, who then told Kuroo. Akaashi was homeless and alone and probably scared and sad and I was too busy being self important to even pick up the phone.”</p><p>Shame settles thick and heavy in the pit of Bokuto’s stomach. Akaashi tried to reach out to him for help and Bokuto told him he was busy.</p><p>“He was always there for me when I needed someone to understand me back in high school. He always <i>got</i> me in ways that no one else did and when he needed me to be there for him in return, I wasn’t. I abandoned him. <i>Again.</i>”</p><p>There’s a thoughtful hum from the phone and MSBY’s other middle blocker Adriah peers over Oliver’s shoulder at Bokuto.</p><p>“So you have a lot of apologies to make to Akaashi-san. But I don’t see how sulking in a shitty hotel by yourself and complaining accomplishes that,” he needles, and it’s a low blow but not an unfair one. </p><p>Bokuto is silent for a long stretch and so still he hears Atsumu wonder out loud if the call got dropped until-</p><p>“Oikawa called him creepy and I- I said nothing to defend him.” </p><p>They all look confused and Atsumu clears his throat to get Bokuto’s attention.</p><p>“This is at the bar, on the last night?”</p><p>Bokuto nods, and his fingers are twisting into his t-shirt so tight that he’s started to stretch out the thin cotton.</p><p>“I don’t even remember how we got on the topic. Akaashi had gone to the bathroom and Oikawa just starts talking about when Akaashi let him stay with him a while, after he retired from Argentina and came back to Japan. I guess Akaashi collects my merch and, um. Has a lot of it in boxes hidden in his closet. Not even just the official stuff, he even has fan stuff, which means he’s also probably been coming to at least some of the games without telling anyone? And he said that Akaashi was always watching the MSBY matches every time we played, and would even watch those dumb post game interviews that always take forever. That it’s probably the only reason he even owns a television. But then Akaashi comes out of the bathroom and Oikawa jokes that he’s creepy and he just looked so scared and so <i>gutted</i> that I panicked and didn’t say anything.” </p><p>Atsumu’s rubbing his fingers against his temples, looking as if he’s suddenly aged by a decade during this conversation.</p><p>“So you’re tellin’ me,” he says slowly, as if he’s talking to an especially stupid child, “That your best friend, Akaashi Keiji, former setter, and the literal love of your life, has spent the last several years collectin’ your merch, attendin’ your games, watchin’ every single match <i>includin’</i> all the nonsense they air afterwards, wears your freakin’ jersey to sleep in every single night, and has put up with you bein’ a dick all these years without complaint, and you think that means he fuckin’ <i>hates you?</i>” Atsumu’s voice is almost shrill by the time he’s finished and Bokuto stares at him wide eyed as if the thought has never even occurred to him that Akaashi might not hate his guts.</p><p>“We.. I thought we were about to kiss the night before, when we were walking home from the gym. He was holding my hand and I was trying to apologize for being a piece of shit and he told me he didn’t care as long as he could be in my life. And I could have sworn he was gonna kiss me when that stupid cyclist dude ran into us and broke his wrist.” </p><p>His teammates all groan as one, making him wince, and, yeah. He probably deserves that. </p><p>“I have to agree with Miya on this one,” Sakusa’s soft voice comes from somewhere off screen. “You’re not being logical. The evidence seems to overwhelmingly indicate that Akaashi-san is just as much in love with you as you are with him.” </p><p>Bokuto sighs for the hundredth time that day, curling in on himself as his stomach roils with anxiety. </p><p>“But what if you’re wrong? What if I ruin everything by confessing and he refuses to talk to me ever again. I’m… He matters too much to me for the risk to seem worth it.”</p><p>Hinata squeals suddenly, catching everyone’s attention, and he’s grabbing the phone up to look at Bokuto directly.</p><p>“Bokuto-san!! I just emailed you something you should see!”</p><p>Bokuto can hear Kenma’s rasping voice coming from Hinata’s phone and has no idea where this is going, but he climbs back onto the bed to retrieve his tablet and clicks the link sitting in his inbox.</p><p>It opens to a video game livestream on Youtube, and Bokuto recognizes Kenma as one of the faces in the squares on the screen. Kuroo is also there, along with another person Bokuto doesn’t recognize but assumes is a gamer friend of Kenma’s, and the fourth one is-</p><p>The air escapes his lungs as he sees Akaashi in the final video square, black glasses perched on the end of his nose as he squints at whatever game Kenma, or more likely Kuroo, has roped him into playing with them. </p><p>“Hello to everyone who is just joining us,” Kenma greets softly, not taking his eyes off his computer screen as he navigates the game world he’s currently superimposed upon. “Today I’m gonna be doing a Q and A with someone new, since you’ve all been asking for some fresh meat on these streams. I’m joined today by my old friend Akaashi, who I used to play volleyball against back in high school.”</p><p>Bokuto doesn’t even notice that his entire team is as glued to this live stream on Hinata’s phone as he is to his tablet. No one and nothing exists right now beyond the Akaashi on his screen, who is smiling and greeting Kenma’s followers with a soft hello.</p><p>“As usual you can post questions in the chat and Akase-san will choose which ones to ask our guest. Anything gross or weird will be ignored, anything inappropriate will get you blocked,  so please be respectful.”</p><p>Akaashi’s curse is muffled as Kenma’s red blob character murders him on the screen, leaving him to now float around as a sad yellow ghost. Bokuto can see at least six other colored shapes running around on the screen so Kenma must have other players involved besides the three of them on his stream.</p><p>“First question, Akaashi-san,” Kenma’s friend states, and Bokuto finds himself tensing before he even knows what’s being asked. </p><p>“KenKun37 wants to know: ‘What kind of job do you have?’”</p><p>Akaashi’s answering smile seems genuine, but Bokuto can see the sad way his mouth cants up at one corner through the high definition of the video. Kenma must have loaned him some equipment for the stream.</p><p>“I was actually an editor for a publishing firm in their manga department up until yesterday,” he hums, keyboard clicking as he moves his ghost character around the board. </p><p>“I guess some people were dissatisfied with me, because they sent my manager a lot of emails demanding that I be fired. It’s okay though. I wasn’t really all that passionate about manga editing, so I’m hoping this means I’ll have more time to focus on the things that I <i>am</i> passionate about.”</p><p>People were emailing Akaashi’s boss to get him fired? That doesn’t make sense. Akaashi is the hardest worker Bokuto has ever met, and he never does anything half assed, especially not something where other people are counting on him. </p><p>Atsumu hisses suddenly, waving to try and get Bokuto’s attention while Akaashi answers a question about what kind of foods he likes to eat and cook.</p><p>“The comments on this thing are full of shit about you, Bokuto,” he warns, expression uncharacteristically serious. </p><p>“Me?” he replies, absolutely flummoxed. Why would Kenma’s gamer fans be commenting about <i>him</i> when he’s not even in the video? </p><p>“Your stunt with the Disney photo tweet has gotten a lot of attention on social media,” Sakusa murmurs, finally appearing on the bed beside Hinata. His signature mask is in place, but Bokuto can see the tension in his shoulders and around his eyes. </p><p>“And not all positive.”</p><p>Atsumu bobs his head in agreement.</p><p>“Not to mention someone must have recognized you when you were playing with your old teammates, because there’s been a bunch of pics floating around on twitter of you and Akaashi playing together. It wasn’t exactly hard for people to piece together who he was after that.” </p><p>The on screen Akaashi laughs through a question about whether he’s met Kenma’s cranky cat and if she likes him. Bokuto’s heart is throbbing in his throat.</p><p>“Your fans have been goin’ crazy about it. Many of them just spent a lot of time arguin’ about what you meant by ‘bf’, and some dumb shit about you ‘cheating’ on me with another setter, but just as many were freakin’ out, dude. You know how careful we have t’be to not piss off the crazies.”</p><p>Ah, yes. The crazies. The delusional ones that firmly believe that their favorite idol or athlete is their actual property, and would attack anyone so much as rumored to be dating them. </p><p>“But I meant ‘best friend’,” he says lamely, feeling sick to his stomach. Atsumu levels of a stare at him that’s full of well deserved judgment. </p><p>“Yeah, well. Your ‘best friend’ probably lost his job ‘cause a bunch of your angry fans thought he was your boyfriend and wanted t’punish him, and now they’re floodin’ this live stream with insults and attacks aimed at Akaashi, so. There’s that.” </p><p>It’s blunt, and probably a little mean, but Bokuto knows he’s not wrong. Japan is still in the early stages of getting with the program on protections for their LGBT citizens, and if Akaashi’s former boss is a homophobe then it wouldn’t have been hard for Bokuto’s tweet or the photos on social media to be weaponized against him, especially if the company thought there was any risk of a scandal.</p><p>“He lost his job and it’s my fault, how can he not hate me now?” he warbles miserably, looking back down at the Akaashi on his screen.</p><p>Akaashi is finishing explaining how he became friends with Kenma and Kuroo, and at some point they must have started the game over because his little yellow character isn’t a ghost anymore.</p><p>“This is a good one,” Kenma’s friend Akase says thoughtfully, and Bokuto is glad that he’s been completely ignoring all the hate comments through the entire stream. Hopefully Kenma will go back and delete them all before Akaashi can see any of them. </p><p>“YanYanx wants to know: Do you have a current favorite volleyball team, and if so who is your favorite player?”</p><p>Akaashi turns beautifully pink on Bokuto’s screen, and Bokuto isn’t sure he’s ready for his answer. Maybe if he quits now while he’s ahead-</p><p>“That’s actually an easy question,” Akaashi chuckles, his eyes going soft around the edges in a way that melts Bokuto’s insides.</p><p>“The MSBY Black Jackals are clearly the best team in the league right now thanks to their number twelve. I actually used to play volleyball with him back when we were in high school, and he’s only gotten better since we graduated. He used to be so moody and dramatic, but he really has grown up a lot in the last couple years to earn that title of ‘Ace’.”</p><p>His voice is so unbearably <i>fond</i> and it makes Bokuto want to cry. Kuroo is right, he really is the clown president of the universe.</p><p>“I think if he keeps working hard then he’ll definitely make the national team to win Japan a medal at the Olympics in 2021.”</p><p>Akaashi smiles, then yelps when his character gets murdered again in the game. </p><p>There’s a phone ringing somewhere off screen and Akaashi picks his up from somewhere out of frame, his expression transforming into a confused frown when he sees what’s on his screen. </p><p>“Hold on one second, I need to answer this.”</p><p>He’s tapping out a response to whatever message he’s just received, and is it Bokuto’s imagination or has he gotten suddenly very pale?</p><p>The phone rings again. Kenma has his own phone in his hands and Bokuto wonders if he’s the one who just texted Akaashi. What on earth could he have said to make Akaashi look like he’s about to cry?</p><p>“I- I need to go,” Akaashi says suddenly, and his voice is strained. His hand is shaking when it fumbles to try and turn off whatever camera he’s been given and then suddenly, without warning, he’s vomiting on his desk. </p><p>Bokuto’s team all recoil in shock but Bokuto is rooted to the spot, wide eyed and unthinking as Akaashi chokes up bright red streams of what look like blood and-</p><p>Flowers?</p><p>Akaashi is gasping unsuccessfully for air around mouthful after mouthful of blood streaked flowers, splattering the front of his neat white shirt and across the camera lens, bathing the room beyond in a sickly red glow.</p><p>Kenma is yelling for Kuroo and Kuroo is alternating between yelling at Akaashi and ordering Kenma to kill the stream. Distantly Bokuto hears Hinata shouting at him but cannot register the words being said to him. </p><p>The last thing Bokuto sees before the screen goes black is Akaashi slumping back in his chair, blood dribbling out of his mouth and nose. </p><p>Bokuto has his shoes on before he realizes what he’s doing, hanging up on his team without a single word. He’s still in Tokyo and Akaashi needs him and Bokuto may not understand this or anything about what just happened but he does know this:</p><p>Akaashi needs him, and this time? Bokuto is gonna be there if it fucking kills him. </p><p>Years of constant exercise and athleticism come in handy as Bokuto sprints through the dark streets, not daring to waste even a second on trying to call for a cab. He’s not even two whole miles away from Akaashi’s apartment and he’s eaten running distances greater than that for breakfast all his adult life. </p><p>He beats out anyone else who might be coming to Akaashi’s aid and panics when the front door is locked, struggling against the doorknob before finally using his brain and hauling his considerable bulk against the wood.</p><p>It takes a few tries and Bokuto knows he’s gonna be benched for a month with how much he’s just wrenched his shoulder, but he literally could not give less of a fuck about volleyball than he does right now. </p><p>“AKAASHI!” he screams in the dark hallway, spying the light shining beneath Akaashi’s bedroom door and lunging towards it. This time the door opens easily for him, and he scrambles across the room to where Akaashi is still seated at his computer, which now more closely resembles a crime scene from the tv drama they both watched on Akaashi’s couch that quiet Friday morning together.</p><p>“Akaashi, Akaashi,” Bokuto begs, gathering him up and spreading him out on the floor away from the splatters of blood. There are flowers <i>everywhere</i>, and Bokuto doesn’t understand how or why. Had all of this come from Akaashi?</p><p>His body is so light and frail, even more than it had been when Bokuto had lifted him in his arms at Disney not even two weeks ago. Has Akaashi been eating since Bokuto left? Has anyone been making sure he slept?</p><p>“Akaashi, please wake up,” he begs, patting his cheek desperately to try and get his attention. The skin is cold and clammy and Bokuto begins to wheeze, every nerve ending on fire with panic. He can hear sirens outside and heavy footsteps climbing the stairs to Akaashi’s apartment and vaguely figures Kuroo must have called an ambulance after the livestream ended.</p><p>Cloudy blue eyes flutter open to look up at him and Bokuto starts to cry, ugly crocodile tears of relief that drip onto Akaashi’s face as he cradles him in his lap. </p><p>“Bokuto-san?” </p><p>Akaashi’s voice sounds absolutely ruined and the hand that touches the back of Bokuto’s is shaking like a leaf. He sounds confused. He’s whispering something and Bokuto has to lean down to hear him, then immediately wishes he hadn’t.</p><p>“Did you ever love me? ”</p><p>A fresh wave of blood and flowers erupts from Akaashi’s mouth, splashing across Bokuto’s throat and down the front of his shirt. His eyes flutter shut again and he goes limp in Bokuto’s arms just as the EMT’s burst through the bedroom door. </p><p>It takes two firefighters to hold Bokuto back as they take Akaashi from him.</p><p>When he’s finally calm enough to be released he spies Akaashi’s phone on the floor beside the desk, wondering what kind of messages he had received to prompt such an extreme reaction. </p><p>Bokuto isn’t sure what he expected but he’s confused when the text messages from Kenma are fairly benign. </p><p>Kenma-kun: just so you know koutarou-san is watching. i sent a link for my stream to shouyou and he said he showed it to him</p><p>Akaashi’s response is equally baffling. A panicked sounding “kenma why would you do that why didn’t you tell me before the stream you know how bad it is right now”.</p><p>He doesn’t even use proper grammar or punctuation and that in and of itself is alarming to Bokuto. Akaashi always speaks with capital letters and periods and honorifics, whereas Bokuto is the lazy one that substitutes letters for words and gets his best friend fired. </p><p>Kenma-kun: im so sorry keiji i didnt realize he would share it when he asked if i was gonna stream tonight</p><p>Bokuto doesn’t understand why this could have been so upsetting to Akaashi that he would start vomiting blood. Does he hate Bokuto <i>so</i> much that he can’t even stand the idea of him watching Akaashi play a computer game?</p><p>He’s forced to stay until a police detective arrives and questions Bokuto about what happens and honestly, his guess is as good as Bokuto’s because he doesn’t <i>know.</i> All he does know is that Akaashi needs him and he has to leave right now.</p><p>Thankfully that’s when Kuroo and Kenma finally arrive and when they catch sight of Bokuto he swears Kuroo is about to slug him.</p><p>And maybe Bokuto wants him to. </p><p>Either way, he doesn’t stick around to hear what Kuroo says to the cops. There isn’t time to question Kenma about the odd text messages, though he notes that the normally expressionless gamer is looking utterly destroyed by what has happened. The second Bokuto is allowed to leave he’s bolting down the street in the direction he saw the ambulance leave, knowing that the hospital can’t be too far away.</p><p>He knows he’s quite a sight dashing through Tokyo with blood all over him, and he definitely traumatizes a child when he bursts into the ER, eyes wild and looking like an actual psychopath. Bokuto doesn’t care and ignores everyone just as thoroughly as he’s been ignoring his ringing phone over the last several minutes.</p><p>It’s Kuroo probably, or maybe Atsumu. </p><p>Nothing matters right now except getting to Akaashi.</p><p>“Please, my best friend was just brought in and I need to see him!” he begs the alarmed nurse at the desk, dancing anxiously from foot to foot. She opens and closes her mouth like she doesn’t know what to say at first, then jerks when tears start sliding down his blood spattered cheeks.</p><p>“Please. It’s important, please. I beg you. His name is Akaashi. Akaashi Keiji. Would have arrived by ambulance like 20 minutes ago.”</p><p>The nurse nods slowly and then waves off the approaching security guard, tapping away on her keyboard for a moment.</p><p>“Akaashi Keiji. They managed to stabilize him and he’s resting now in room 203,” she answers, startling when Bokuto immediately takes off again.</p><p>“Wait only family-”</p><p>“I <i>am</i> his family!” Bokuto yells back, not bothering to look back at her. He sprints past protesting doctors and nurse staff until he finally skids to a stop in front of a room with a little 203 on the placard.</p><p>Drenched with sweat and shaking with exhaustion, Bokuto stumbles his way into the room, terrified of what he’s about to see. </p><p>Akaashi looks almost- peaceful? </p><p>Someone’s cleaned the blood off his skin and changed him into a pair of clean hospital garb. If it weren’t for the tube down his throat and all the wires connecting Akaashi to a thousand monitors, he would appear to just be sleeping.</p><p>“‘Kaashi?” he whispers, approaching the prone man with uneasy footsteps. He carefully picks up Akaashi’s uninjured hand between his own, not wanting to disturb the IV line, and shudders at the icy feeling of still fingers against his own overheated skin.</p><p>“Keiji, I’m so sorry.”</p><p>Bokuto is crying again and he doesn’t bother to stifle his sob as he leans down to press their foreheads together. </p><p>“I’m sorry, can I help you?” a pleasant but standoffish voice comes from behind him and Bokuto whips around to see a middle aged woman standing there with a clipboard in her hands. The name tag on her shirt identifies her as a Doctor Fumiko, and Bokuto guesses she must be the one assigned to Akaashi.</p><p>“Sorry, I’m, um. I’m his… friend?” he responds awkwardly, tightening his grip on Akaashi’s hand. </p><p>Fumiko stares at him long and hard, as if sizing him up. Then she must notice the gore streaked down the front of Bokuto’s shirt and the flower petals that are still gummed up in the mess because she softens just a bit with understanding.</p><p>“I’m Akaashi’s doctor. I’ve been treating his Hanahaki since he was in high school,” she hums, moving around Akaashi’s hospital bed to examine the machine monitoring his heart rate. </p><p>“Hanahaki?” Bokuto replies, only vaguely recognizing the name. “Akaashi’s sick?”</p><p>The doctor studies him curiously, sitting in the chair next to Akaashi’s bedside so she can inspect all the wires attached to his sleeping body.</p><p>“You must be Bokuto-san,” she guesses, clearly unsurprised when Bokuto nods dumbly. </p><p>“Hanahaki is a rare illness where the afflicted grow flowers within their respiratory system. The plants take root starting in their lungs and then, if left untreated, spread throughout the body until your body eventually fails, usually from multiple system organ failure. Symptoms include coughing up blood, insomnia, nausea, weight loss, and depression, just to name a few.”</p><p>Bokuto has to lean against the hospital bed to keep himself upright, struggling to understand what she’s saying.</p><p>“How… How does one even get something like this?” he asks wetly, petting his fingers through Akaashi’s tangled hair. How long has Akaashi been suffering with this alone?</p><p>“Unrequited love.”</p><p>The answer is blunt, and wielded with deadly accuracy.</p><p>“Akaashi fell in love with a classmate when he was in high school. He said the flowers appeared after this classmate graduated. He came to me about a month later when it started to impact his ability to play volleyball.” </p><p>Oh god Bokuto had made Akaashi do so much last week, between Disney and the volleyball game. Had he been forcing his best friend to suffer just so he could buy time to man up and confess his feelings?</p><p>“But you can heal him right? It doesn’t <i>have</i> to end in death?” he begs, leaning down to press his forehead to Akaashi’s again. He’s so cold, so terribly cold.</p><p>Doctor Fumiko sighs softly, flipping open Akaashi’s chart and peering through whatever she has written there.</p><p>“There are several ways to combat the illness. First, we have medication, which can extend someone’s life by many years as long as the source of stress is avoided or eliminated entirely from their life. Second, if the unrequited love becomes requited, the flowers will dry up and the body takes care of removing the waste. Third, and most unpopular, is surgery to remove the flowers. People who opt for the second still sometimes end up with the third if they are rejected by the person they confess to.”</p><p>Bokuto’s brow furrows with confusion. He’s still trying to wrap his head around the part about avoiding the source of stress. Has he been the one making Akaashi sick? Is it his fault that Akaashi has become so withdrawn and lonely?</p><p>His head is spinning and he decides he doesn’t want to know the answer.</p><p>“Why is surgery unpopular? I don’t understand.” Surgery sounds like it would save Akaashi’s life, so why hadn’t Akaashi done it years ago?</p><p>“We still don’t know a lot about how Hanahaki works or where it comes from. What we do know, however, is forcibly removing the flowers sets off a chain reaction within the nervous system. All Hanahaki patients who decide on surgery forget their feelings for the one who caused the illness. Many will lose their memories of that person entirely. Some find that they’re unable to feel love again at all, even after they’ve recovered. So it’s generally only taken as a last resort option to keep someone alive.”</p><p>This time Bokuto can’t catch himself on the bed and he falls to his knees beside it, still clutching desperately onto Akaashi’s hand.</p><p>“Akaashi will forget me?” he whimpers, shoulders heaving. The idea is absolutely agonizing. Even if Akaashi doesn’t love him back, even if Akaashi woke up and told him he hated his guts, Bokuto would never want to forget him, or the feeling of loving him.</p><p>“Is surgery the only way to save him now?” </p><p>The doctor is silent and Bokuto sobs, pressing his face to Akaashi’s still hand. </p><p>“If he doesn’t improve soon then we may have no choice. His oxygen levels have been dropping since he got here and it seems like, whatever has happened between you two in the recent weeks, Akaashi-kun interpreted it as a rejection because the Hanahaki has spread rapidly since his last visit to me a month ago. Based on his blood test, he’s been attempting to manage the symptoms by taking dangerously high doses of his medication.” </p><p>Bokuto remembers the small white pill he thought he saw Akaashi stuff in his mouth between bites at the restaurant in Disney. At the time he just assumed it to be aspirin or something benign, but this? This is devastating.</p><p>Because it means Akaashi has been suffering for years and it’s all Bokuto’s fault. </p><p>The realization leaves him shattered, unable to do more than cling weakly to his dying best friend.</p><p>The doctor seems to understand and takes pity on him, and now Bokuto knows how she had guessed his name. Akaashi must have told her the name of his “classmate” at some point during his years of treatment. Does she hate Bokuto as much as he hates himself?</p><p>“I’ll give you two some time. However, once his oxygen saturation drops below 80% I’ll have no choice but to push the surgery. Any lower than that and his organs will start shutting down and he’s at risk of dying on the table,” she explains, firmly but not unkindly. Bokuto’s eyes flit up to the machines and he finds one that reads 82% with a small, flashing red LED that signals the number is unsafe.</p><p>“I understand.” </p><p>She draws the curtain around them and Bokuto swings around the bed so he can take the vacated seat, scooting it as close to Akaashi as physically possible. </p><p>He’s had a whole speech planned out for months, now. Things he wanted to tell Akaashi. Things he wanted to ask. Explanations for all those missed calls and unanswered texts throughout the past several years.</p><p>All of it seems hollow and stupid in the face of this. </p><p>“Akaashi,” he whispers, brushing his dark bangs back away from his forehead before sliding down to cup his cheek, careful not to disturb the oxygen mask that’s likely keeping Akaashi alive. His other hand falls heavy on the cast around the former setter’s wrist, and it’s trembling with fear and exhaustion. </p><p>“Keiji,” he starts over and then flinches when one of the other monitors beeps, warning that Akaashi’s blood pressure is starting to sink dangerously low.</p><p>“Keiji, I love you.”</p><p>No movement. Not even a twitch beneath Akaashi’s closed eyelids.</p><p>“I love you so fucking much. I’ve loved you since we were both just dumb teenagers playing volleyball together every day. I’ve loved you every single moment of every single day since the moment you walked into the gym and told us your name. And I’ll never forgive myself for letting you suffer alone all this time because I was too stupid and too scared to tell you the truth. So please, please wake up. I’m begging you to wake up so I can spend the rest of my life making sure you know how much you mean to me.”</p><p>Bokuto is sobbing gently now, gathering Akaashi’s hands and pressing them to his lips. </p><p>“Please. I’ll never ask you for anything ever again if you just do this one thing for me, Keiji.”</p><p>The oxygen monitor beeps and the digital monitor blinks 81% accusingly at him. </p><p>Still, Akaashi isn’t opening his eyes. </p><p>“Keiji, come on. You’re.. You’re the most stubborn fucking person I’ve ever met in my entire life. Even when I was acting like a baby, and we were down a million points, you always kept going. Please don’t give up now, not when we’ve finally almost won the championship.” </p><p>Bokuto squeezes his eyes shut, pressing kisses to Akaashi’s knuckles and fingers. </p><p>“I love you.”</p><p>He jerks to his feet when the machines around them suddenly start to wail, and he knows how crazed he must appear when Doctor Fumiko bursts back into the room with a legion of other medical staff not far behind her. There’s an orderly wrenching him away from the bedside while doctors and nurses yell about his blood pressure and Bokuto struggles, screaming for them to let him go because Akaashi is dying, Akaashi <i>needs</i> him.</p><p>“Tell the OR we’re going now or he’s not going to make it,” Fumiko orders, and they’re taking Akaashi away. They’re taking him AWAY.</p><p>“AKAASHI!” Bokuto screams, managing to extricate himself from the two men attempting to wrangle him and surging forward, tripping out of the room and into the hallway.</p><p>“Bokuto?”</p><p>Kuroo and Kenma are standing there, looking alarmed. Kenma’s eyes are red rimmed and swollen, now round with shock at the sight of Bokuto. Oikawa and Iwaizumi aren’t far behind them and Bokuto does not have time to deal with them right now because there are people taking Akaashi away from him. </p><p>“Akaashi! AKAASHI!” He ducks the orderlies that come crashing after him and sprints towards the hospital bed that’s getting farther and farther away. “Keiji,<i> please!</i>”</p><p>A third guard tackles him and it takes all three of them to keep Bokuto restrained, flailing desperately as he is in the middle of the busy emergency room. </p><p>Akaashi disappears around a corner and through a door, and Bokuto’s body finally gives up. He’d already long exceeded his physical limits by sprinting to Akaashi’s apartment and then to the hospital, and this is the final, finishing blow.</p><p>He silently sinks to his hands and knees, shoulders heaving with the force of his labored breathing. The guards release him now that he’s no longer a threat to anyone or himself and someone’s hand on his shoulder, attempting to comfort him.</p><p>Bokuto feels a tightness in his chest and the next gasp turns into a hacking cough, rough and guttural. The acrid tang of iron sits heavy on his tongue and he covers his mouth with his hand and winces when he feels something wet and slimy, drawing back to see what nasty thing he’s just coughed up.</p><p>Settled in the center of his palm in a small pool of blood is a single red flower.</p><p>Bokuto hears Oikawa’s sharp intake of breath from behind him and assumes it’s because he saw what’s in his hand. He wonders how long it’ll be before he’s choking on them every day. </p><p>He deserves to suffer for just as long as Akaashi did.</p><p>“Bokuto-san?”</p><p>There’s a stillness in the air that seems unnatural in the middle of an emergency room. He can hear Kenma crying behind him and that’s? Even stranger, if he’s being honest. Kenma never cries.</p><p>“You came back for me.” </p><p>He looks up from the flower in his palm and when he sees Akaashi standing in front of him he swears it must be a hallucination brought on by his exhaustion. He sits back on his heels and stares at the ghost-Akaashi before him, confusingly barefoot and still clad in the green hospital gown.</p><p>Doctor Fumiko appears from the door behind Akaashi’s spectre and stops dead in her tracks when she sees them.</p><p>Bokuto’s brows furrow and he drops the flower on the ground, absentmindedly wiping his palm on the front of his shirt. </p><p>Keiji?” </p><p>Akaashi kneels in front of Bokuto and takes his hands, uncaring of the mess, and guides them up until they’re pressed to Akaashi’s cheeks. He feels so warm.</p><p>Warm and real and so very, very much still here</p><p>Bokuto’s face crumples and he throws his arms around Akaashi, crushing him to his chest. Akaashi clings back no less fiercely and extricates himself only just enough to start peppering Bokuto’s face with desperate kisses. Bokuto’s hands roam across his back, aching to reassure himself that this is really happening. </p><p>Distressed motions calm down into gentler ones, and Bokuto nudges his forehead up against Akaashi’s with a final soft sigh, stroking his fingers carefully through messy black curls he’s embarrassingly obsessed with. Akaashi is brushing the tears from his face and they just remain there for a moment, suspended in time they now suddenly have.</p><p>“Of course I came back for you. I love you, Keiji. From the moment I met you I knew you were meant for me,” Bokuto whispers, lips ghosting against his best friend’s. He can taste Akaashi’s smile and shudders when he finally closes the gap, sealing their mouths together in a true, proper kiss.</p><p>“I love you too, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi murmurs back, and this time there’s nothing and no one in the whole wide universe to get in the way.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>See, I promised y'all a happy ending. (ノ・∀・)ノ</p><p>Final chapter will be an epilogue that takes place a couple months after this.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. For You</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>"Love, let's talk about love.<br/>Is it anything and everything you hoped for?"</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks for sticking this through with me! I decided to post this all in one piece so no one was stuck waiting for the happy part. I know this thing is a beast and I appreciate everyone who made it all the way to the end. Please enjoy this this sweet and sappy epilogue, which takes place a few months after chapter 2.</p><p>Chapter summary taken from "All The Stars" by Kendrick Lamar and SZA, which can be found on the playlist linked in chapter 1!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Akaashi! Hurry up, the ceremony is gonna be starting any minute,” Bokuto protests, and Akaashi fumbles faster with his tie, struggling to get the knot right with his still clumsy left arm. The cast had come off last weekend, but he’s still in the awkward phase of getting used to having proper movement again, and his fingers refuse to cooperate when he really needs them to.</p><p>Bokuto appears in the bathroom again and wordlessly takes hold of his tie, much more nimble digits making quick work of the messy fabric. Akaashi grumbles that he could have gotten it but he’s mollified when Bokuto steals a quick kiss, then takes his hand. </p><p>“I know you could have, but you know Oikawa will never let us live it down if we miss his thing and I’m honestly a little more scared of Iwaizumi than I am of you.”</p><p>Akaashi rolls his eyes but allows Bokuto to pull him out of the bathroom and towards the banquet hall where the Oikawa-Iwaizumi wedding party is about to begin. </p><p>It’s been two months since Akaashi almost died and you can hardly tell by looking at him now. The color has returned to his skin and he’s even put back on some of the weight he’d lost between the illness and the medication attempting to treat it. The road to recovery has been hard, but for once in his life he doesn’t feel like he has to walk it alone.</p><p>The main difference, at least for Akaashi, is the overwhelming sense of calm that has replaced the sadness that used to consume his every waking moment. He’s happy, perhaps for the first time in his entire adult life. Bokuto is officially on family emergency leave from the Black Jackals and has been living with Akaashi ever since he came home from the hospital. His friends are constantly visiting his apartment, bearing gifts and bringing food so Akaashi doesn’t almost die a second time from Bokuto’s cooking. </p><p>Akaashi wakes up every single morning and gets to see the love of his life, in his bed or sometimes in the kitchen, trying to put together something for breakfast before Akaashi gets up. Usually he wears Bokuto’s jersey. Sometimes he wears nothing at all, just to see Bokuto squirm.</p><p>He’s never been more at peace and yet… all of this somehow feels oddly incomplete. Like something is missing. </p><p>Contemplating this curiosity, Akaashi takes his seat between Bokuto and Hinata just in time for the music to start playing. </p><p>The ceremony truly is beautiful. They’re both wearing matching blinding white suits, and everyone is surprised when Iwaizumi is the first one to cry during his vows. Akaashi cheers until his throat aches when they kiss and Bokuto squeezes his hand reassuringly. He’d held it through the entire thing, and isn’t that the funniest thing?</p><p>The chairs are moved out so the party can really begin in full swing, and as Bokuto flails his arms in a poor imitation of a dance he’d seen in a music video last night, Akaashi can’t stop smiling. Oikawa is laughing at something Iwaizumi said, and Bokuto stops dancing so that he can stare at the former setter.</p><p>“Y’know, I can’t believe you slept with that guy when you could have been sleeping with <i>me</i>,” he grumbles, and Akaashi snickers, elbowing Bokuto playfully in the ribs.</p><p>“For the record, I can’t believe I slept with them either.” </p><p>Bokuto notices the way he phrases it and squints, grabbing Akaashi by the shoulders and forcing him to look up at Bokuto.</p><p>“Akaashi, tell me you didn’t.” </p><p>He shrugs vaguely, looking down to inspect his fingernails as if the conversation bores him. </p><p>“Who cares which of our friends I’ve slept with. I’m in your bed now, and I’m there to stay,” he murmurs, taking advantage of the way Bokuto melts to extricate himself from his grip. Seeing that Oikawa is alone now, he takes a step back and towards him, watching as Bokuto’s brow furrows.</p><p>“Wait, friends plural?” he asks, and Akaashi tosses one last wordless grin over his shoulder at him.</p><p>
  <i>"’Kaashi, friends plural!?”</i>
</p><p>Akaashi walks right over to the happy groom without looking back, pulling Oikawa into a tight embrace. He’s long since forgiven him for what he’d said at the bar on that cursed night, and now he’s just glad to see him glowing so brightly after having front row seats to Oikawa at his absolute lowest. He can hear Bokuto having a full blown existential crisis behind him and chooses to ignore it, instead focusing on his friend. </p><p>“You’re good for one another,” Akaashi sighs, careful not to mess up Oikawa’s makeup when he strokes his cheek. “You deserve to be happy, Tooru.”</p><p>Oikawa sniffles and throws his arms around Akaashi’s shoulders again, makeup be damned. He’d taken it the hardest after Bokuto when he found out about the Hanahaki. Akaashi had taken care of him for months when he came back from Argentina in defeat. Made him food when he felt too sick to eat. Helped him wash his hair when he was too depressed to move. </p><p>And all that time Akaashi had been fighting his own battle without Oikawa ever being any the wiser. </p><p>“So do you,” Tooru whispers, offering Akaashi his bouquet. He recognizes the flowers that make up the main body of it and almost laughs out loud at the irony.</p><p>“Asters,” he murmurs, stroking his fingers over the delicate red petals. Now that they aren’t ripping his lungs and throat to ribbons he admits that they’re kind of pretty, in a wildflower kind of way.</p><p>Oikawa nods, wrapping his hands around Akaashi’s and squeezing.</p><p>“The florist said they symbolize-”</p><p>“Patient love,” Akaashi finishes for him, smiling fondly.</p><p>“From the Greek word Astéri, meaning star. Aster blossoms symbolize a deep, undying love that never fades.”</p><p>Oikawa sniffles, pulling Akaashi into another tight hug. Akaashi thinks maybe being sort of best friends slash former sexual partners with Oikawa Tooru isn’t so bad after all.</p><p>“I love you, ‘Kaashi,” the other former setter murmurs, petting Akaashi’s cheek when they draw apart once more. </p><p>“Now go get your man before he eats all the yakiniku from my buffet. It has to last for the rest of the party or else there’ll be a riot.”</p><p>There it is. </p><p>Akaashi laughs as Oikawa saunters away to join his husband, then looks back down at the bouquet he’s been given. Deep, unyielding love that never fades. </p><p>Hm.</p><p>He goes to find Bokuto, but only because he finds himself missing his boyfriend and <i>not</i> because Oikawa Tooru told him to. Bokuto is standing awkwardly with a group that consists, quite oddly, of Ushijima Wakatoshi, Shiratorizawa’s former middle blocker Tendou Satori, now sporting a buzz cut, Miya Atsumu, and Sakusa Kiyoomi. </p><p>A very unlikely collection of human beings if Akaashi ever saw one. </p><p>“Having fun?” he interjects in a murmur, coming up behind Bokuto to tangle their fingers together and lays his cheek against a broad shoulder, drinking in the comforting heat of his body. All eyes turn to him but he refuses to feel embarrassed, so he stares back at them, defiant, daring anyone to make a single comment.</p><p>Tendou Satorijust blinks at him, then grins and silently links a pinky with Wakatoshi’s. </p><p>Oh?</p><p>Atsumu looks like he’s about to say something, smirking as he opens his mouth-</p><p>Only to shut it again when Sakusa grips his elbow and squeezes it in warning. </p><p>
  <i>Oh.</i>
</p><p>Fascinating. </p><p>He’s not sure which pair he finds the most confusingly endearing.</p><p>“Mind if I steal my boyfriend for a bit?” Akaashi hums, then grabs Bokuto by the wrist without waiting for an answer and drags him away. They walk out of the crowded main room and continue down the hall until Akaashi finds an empty room that looks to be used for meetings. There’s a single large table in the middle and wheeled chairs arranged haphazardly around it. It’s about as private as they’re gonna get with the party still in full swing and Akaashi closes the door behind them and then locks it for good measure.</p><p>“Akaashi?”</p><p>Bokuto sounds nervous, clearly anxious about what’s going on. His eyes dart between Akaashi and the bouquet in his hands as if he’s expecting him to throw it, and Akaashi can’t help but huff out a laugh. He’s probably still thinking about what Akaashi said earlier. </p><p>“I’m not gonna bite you, Bo. I just wanted to be alone with you for a minute,” he promises, stepping forward so he can bury himself against Bokuto’s chest, sighing with relief when the anxiety he hadn’t noticed building all afternoon finally bleeds from between his shoulders. Bokuto’s arms curl around him and hold him tight, and Akaashi feels that deep, calming peace settle over him once more. </p><p>They stay like that for an indeterminable amount of time before Akaashi finally finds the courage to say what he needs to say, dropping the bouquet so he can curl his fingers tight into the front of Bokuto’s tidy suit vest. </p><p>“I think you should start playing volleyball again,” he tells him firmly, squaring his jaw in preparation for an argument.</p><p>“It’s been amazing, and I mean <i>amazing</i> having you around all the time. But you and I both know volleyball is in your blood, and you’ll never be truly happy if I keep holding you back from playing.”</p><p>Akaashi smiles gently, cupping a hand against Bokuto’s cheek. Yellow eyes are staring at him with surprise and Akaashi’s glad he can still keep his boyfriend on his toes like this. </p><p>“And to be honest, I really miss watching you play.”</p><p>Bokuto laughs, resting his palm on top of Akaashi’s hand and turning his head to press gentle kisses against sensitive fingertips.</p><p>“Okay, ‘Kaashi,” he sighs, closing his eyes for a long moment before he’s suddenly scooping Akaashi up and depositing him on the table in the center of the room, gripping the wood on either side of his legs to prevent him from squirming away. “On one condition, though.” </p><p>Akaashi gasps and then flushes an indignant pink, curling his arms around Bokuto’s shoulders to keep himself from tipping backwards. Bokuto is staring at him with such ferocity that heat blooms in the pit of his stomach, spreading like honey through his body the longer he looks.</p><p>“Come with me. We’ll get our own place in the city, just you and me.” </p><p>And there it is.</p><p>Akaashi feels the final piece he’s been missing all day finally slide into place. </p><p>He laughs softly and leans forward so he can press his forehead to Bokuto’s, curling his body around the other man’s.</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>Bokuto startles, then a grin splits his face and he whoops, surging forward to crush his mouth against Akaashi’s. The sudden motion sends them both sprawling backwards on the table and Akaashi is laughing even harder now, kissing him back with equal fervor. </p><p>They draw back just enough to catch their breath and Akaashi smiles wryly up at the other man, reaching up to fiddle with Bokuto’s tie.</p><p>“Y’know… I’m sure nobody’s missing us with how much is going on. And that door did have a lock,” he hums, eyes hooded and legs spreading invitingly around Bokuto’s hips. He sees Bokuto’s adam’s apple bob when he swallows thickly and relishes it, still thrilled to see the evidence of how much of an effect he has on the other man.</p><p>“Yeah? You want me to fuck you at Oikawa and Iwaizumi’s wedding, Keiji?” Bokuto growls, and the roughness of his tone goes straight to Akaashi’s dick. Instead of answering, Akaashi tugs Bokuto’s tie free from his shirt collar and lets it flutter to the table beside him.</p><p>Bokuto takes the hint. </p><p>He makes quick work of Akaashi’s suit coat and dress shirt, leaving his nice clothing in a messy pile on one of the wheeled chairs beside them. His shoes get dropped onto the floor along with his pants and underwear, and Akaashi is left in nothing but a single, straggling sock on his left foot, the wood laminate cold against his bare skin.</p><p>“God, ‘Kaashi. How have I kept my hands off you all these years?” Bokuto curses under his breath and Akaashi spreads his thighs wide and exposes the most intimate parts of himself to that intense golden stare.</p><p>“You don’t have to hold back anymore, Koutarou. I’m right here and I’m yours for the taking,” Akaashi murmurs, breath hitching when two thick, callused fingers brush against his hole, still slick and open from when they’d fucked earlier that morning. They slide inside him without hesitating, stroking against his inner walls to make his hips buck with pleasure. </p><p>It turns out Bokuto’s a fan of teasing and Akaashi wants to hate him for it, but right now all he can think about is how much he wants Bokuto inside him. </p><p>“Bokuto, please,” he begs with a breathy moan, clenching around the digits currently making a mess of his insides. They brush against his prostate on their way out and he shivers, hardening cock jumping against his thigh. </p><p>Bokuto chuckles softly and unbuttons his suit coat, setting it aside after he extricates a small packet of lube and a condom from one of the pockets. Akaashi watches with heavy eyes as his former Captain unzips his pants and peels them down just enough to free his cock, giving the thick length a few quick strokes before he’s tearing open the condom and sliding it on.</p><p>His cock fits down Akaashi’s throat better than he’d ever fantasized, but that’s for another day. </p><p>Besides, it also fits just as perfectly in his ass. </p><p>“You ready?” Bokuto asks, lube slick fingers stroking a quivering pale thigh soothingly. </p><p>Akaashi fixes a heated stare on him and scoots a little further down the table until his ass is hanging off the edge, reaching out to grab Bokuto’s shirt and tugging him closer.</p><p>“Please don’t make me wait any longer, Bokuto-san.”</p><p>Bokuto shudders and does as he’s told, gripping himself with one hand so that he can guide himself into Akaashi. The former setter sighs at the pressure and goes limp against the tabletop as if he’s finally comfortable again now that Bokuto’s inside of him.</p><p>Neither of them expect that they’ll last very long, and there’s the risk that someone can catch them at any moment, so Bokuto starts rolling his hips against Akaashi’s ass without preamble, curving down over him so that he can kiss him again. Akaashi tastes fruit punch on his tongue and chases the flavor, licking wetly into Bokuto’s mouth. The kiss is filthy and the squelch of lube between them is even more so, loud and messy in the still silence of the office room.</p><p>“Koutarou,” Akaashi gasps, tipping his head back so he can moan softly when a change in the angle of Bokuto’s thrusting leaves his cockhead to grind harshly against Akaashi’s sensitive prostate. Bokuto sinks his teeth into the tempting expanse of Akaashi’s throat and sucks until pale skin blossoms into dark, claiming bruises. </p><p>“Did Oikawa fuck you this good, ‘Kaashi?” Bokuto snarls, making Akaashi’s toes curl against his lower back. “Did Iwaizumi fill you up the way I can? Did they ever make you <i>fly?</i>” </p><p>Akaashi sobs with pleasure, fingernails raking uselessly against Bokuto’s shirt. </p><p>“Only you, only you.”</p><p>The noise Bokuto makes is positively feral and Akaashi has to cover his mouth to muffle a scream that threatens to wrench from somewhere deep and primal inside of him. Bokuto’s hips snap against the curve of his ass as Akaashi’s pleasure begins to peak, sending him flying, flying, flying-</p><p>He comes all over his stomach with a ragged sob, clutching to Bokuto’s shoulders for dear life and clenching tight around the cock inside him. When it’s over he’s left panting and quivering, quietly amused when he sees Bokuto clearly struggling to stay still and not overstimulate Akaashi. </p><p>“It’s okay, Bo. Take what you need,” he murmurs, reaching up to slide his fingers into Bokuto’s stiffly gelled hair. Bokuto’s mouth is on him again but this time it’s gentle, lips coaxing Akaashi’s apart so their tongues can tangle together. He gasps into the kiss when Bokuto’s hips are moving again, teetering on the fine edge between pleasure and discomfort after such an intense orgasm. </p><p>“I love you so much, Keiji,” Bokuto groans, kissing his way down Akaashi’s cheek to lick at the sweat that’s beading in the hollow of his throat. He only lasts a few more thrusts before he’s finally going still on top of Akaashi, emptying himself into the condom inside of him. </p><p>They lay like that for a few moments to catch their breath and Akaashi closes his eyes to try and memorize the weight of Bokuto’s body on top of his own. </p><p>“I love you too, Bokuto-san.”</p><p>When they return to the wedding party and Kuroo catches sight of Akaashi’s slight limp and the hickey peeking out from the top of his collar, the teasing is absolutely merciless. Akaashi stands to the side with Kenma while their two boyfriends bicker and torment one another, very much determined to not be a part of this.</p><p>Bokuto spins around to look at him, already peeling his suit coat off so he can challenge Kuroo to an arm wrestling contest. </p><p>“I’ll be right back, yeah?” and Akaashi laughs, genuine and warm, and wonders if it’s even possible to feel quite this happy. </p><p>
  <i>Bokuto is free with his affections. He loves his friends.</i>
</p><p>He reaches up to straighten Bokuto’s tie and leans forward to kiss the corner of his mouth, drawing back to fix him with a look that’s full of stars.</p><p><i>But he loves Akaashi most of all, and that makes him special.</i> </p><p>“I’ll hold you to it, Bokuto-san.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Me? Slipping in references to a past Iwaoikaashi sandwich? More likely than you think. ೭੧(❛▿❛✿)੭೨</p><p>Please let me know if you liked this! It was a huge labor of love and I just hope it makes a few people sad and then happy again. c:</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you everyone for reading this behemoth! If you want to cry about the eternal love that is Bokuaka, you can find me on twitter <a href="https://twitter.com/ushitendous">@ushitendous</a> :)</p><p>Flower meanings helpfully inspired by <a href="https://flowermeanings.org/aster-flower-meaning/">this</a> and <a href="https://www.teleflora.com/meaning-of-flowers/aster?promotion=OCTOBERWELCOME5">this.</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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